Natural Born Killer
by nancy fan
Summary: Estranged from Logan, Veronica is working a particularly violent series of murders for the FBI. Story is set post-series three.
1. Chapter 1

**Natural Born Killer is set post-series three and is how I imagined the show would have developed if that clip released onto youtube of had actually transpired into an actual season. Enjoy!**

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**Her spoon clattering dejectedly into her bowl, Veronica sighed wearily as she flicked half-heartedly through the paltry choice of channels, the television showing the usual scourge of reality television shows, where reality was used in the very loosest sense of the word. Spoons and bowls had become quite a prominent fixture in Veronica's life, her eating habits generally revolving around bowls of cereal or ice-cream, Rocky Road topped with whipped cream being her current choice of poison.

Swinging her legs up onto the faded grey sofa, Veronica rested her head comfortingly against the nest of pillows she had dragged out from her bed earlier that evening. The scene was pathetic, she knew and a far cry from the entire days she and Logan would spend in bed together, indulging in all the ridiculously expensive room service and pay-per-view television that Logan's L.A. penthouse had to offer. That, of course, was before things soured and Logan had slipped into his old ways, frequenting the bars of Neptune with Dick and Casey. Angry and incensed, Veronica had walked out, shoving as much as she pack into a lone suitcase and leaving without affording so much as a backward glance behind her. If living with Liane Mars had taught her anything, it was that a leopard rarely changed it's spots, or her penchant for vodka in her mother's case.

Subconsciously at least, Veronica must have believed that the separation was merely a temporary glitch because she was certain that she would never have chosen to move into this apartment had she known her stay there was going to last more than a couple of weeks. The apartment was a depressing space, all bland white walls and boxy cheaply finished rooms. Apart from the still unpacked boxes and untidy scattering of clothes the apartment was completely devoid of any sense of human life, the space appearing almost identical to how it had looked when she had been shown around the place by the overeager estate agent almost six months ago.

Sneaking a glance over at the answering machine, Veronica felt inexplicably sad seeing there was no pleading, desperate voice mail from Logan, begging for her to come back. There hadn't been one in weeks. Though Veronica had swore to her father, that she was over Logan, that she didn't want to talk to him, that she never wanted to see him again, the red flashing light on the answering machine was her one, last connection to her ex-boyfriend and without it she felt lost. Not that she'd ever admit that to anyone, least of all to Logan himself.

The buzz of her cell-phone vibrating on the coffee-table amongst left over takeout cartons and abandoned cups of coffee startled her and reaching for the offending phone, Veronica's heart sank on recognizing the number.

"Agent Mars," she answered reluctantly, stretching resignedly and pulling herself up from the sofa as though preempting the likely reason for the likely reason for the phone call. Four o' clock in the morning and most people were asleep, snuggled up warmly in their beds but not Veronica. Her job as FBI agent offered no such sanctity to such frivolousnesses as a full night's sleep.

"There's been two murders over at UCLA," her partner, John Burke muttered distractedly into the phone and Veronica could hear the wails of his newborn daughter rising in the background. "The crime scene technicians are finishing up at the scene now, so we're cleared to go in." he informed her before calling out the address of the Alpha Gamma Beta sorority house where the supposed murders had taken place.

"I'll meet you there," Veronica replied wearily, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand.

Dragging a brush through her sleep tangled lengths of blonde hair, Veronica gathered it into a neat ponytail before rummaging unenthusiastically through the staple black jacket and trousers combination that composed her work uniform.

Ponytails and trouser suits. It was hardly attractive. Then neither, Veronica supposed, brushing some bronzer over her cheek and staring blankly into the small cracked mirror, were the ravaged, bloodied bodies that her job as FBI agent put her in contact with everyday.

Grabbing her keys, Veronica made for the door. Dead college students always made for interesting news and Veronica was certain the crime scene would already be swamped by local media by the time she got there. Slamming the door shut behind her, Veronica sighed. It was going to be a long night.

--

It was still early morning when Veronica arrived on the scene, a faint tinge of blue just coloring the inky-black sky. Drawn by the ominous flashing blue and red of the police cars, the first of the onlookers were gathering. Glancing at the teens, Veronica could see the look of sick horror on their faces, their eyes widened with a sort of morbid fascination as speculation mounted as what exactly had happened in the house. Gathered in a quieter, more pensive clique, was a group of pajama attired girls, all shivering slightly in their thin robes.

_The other sorority members, _Veronica noted curiously, hoping but not relying on the fact that one of the girls might have some useful information on the killer. By all accounts, the two girls had been dead for hours and the incident had only been reported in the past hour or so. _They were probably asleep, _Veronica concluded reluctantly, before immediately reconsidering, remembering her own college days. If college students were renowned for anything, it was not their dedication to their studies but rather their ability to party nonstop for days. _One of these girls might know something, or could have heard something, _she determined, eyeing the girls cooly. Their red-rimmed eyes spoke of their upset and grief of the loss of their friends but Veronica was aware of the cunning actions of people when it came to concealing a crime. Teary eyes and quivering lips were easy to fake and Veronica was determined to quiz each and every girl individually and if there was a liar in their midst, she would hunt her out and reveal her for the murdering bitch that she was.

Traipsing through the damp grass, the muddy green already trampled by a hundred police boots, Veronica wandered over to the Alpha Gamma Beta sorority house, the grey and white expanse of clapboard painting a picturesque scene, undoubtably belying the horror of what lay inside.

"Blondie, you sure you want to go in there?"

Eyeing the balding police officer cooly, Veronica resisted the urge to kick the man in the balls, however satisfying the action would be. While being blonde and petite would be considered advantageous in most careers, Veronica had found the direct opposite to be true in the FBI. Police officers and even her own colleagues could be dismissive or even downright rude, perceiving some sort of deficit in her ability to do her job by the mere fact she had blonde hair and had a relatively attractive face.

"Yes, I do want to go in there and it's Agent Mars to you, Officer," she snapped back, eyeing the police officer icily before walking on past without affording him a second glance.

"What the hell?" Veronica sighed, wincing as she strode purposefully through the chaotic mess of a bedroom that had been so suddenly and inexplicably transformed into a crime scene. In her two years working as an FBI agent, Veronica had thought she had seen it all before but seeing the shocking scene in front of her, she decided she would have to rethink that theory.

"Amy Philips and Karen Jones," Agent Burke informed her so matter-of-factly, he could have been listing off what he had eaten for his dinner and not naming two teenage girls who had just been bludgeoned to death. "Sophomores at UCLA. Both law students and. promising futures ahead of the girls by all accounts."

The two bodies lay sprawled out grotesquely on the twin beds, their faces reduced to a mess of blood and tissue, the injuries obviously as a result of some blunt force trauma to the head. The bright pink walls were now sprayed with a splatter of red, the blood trailing in vast tracks onto the once cream carpet.

"With this much of a mess, I can't believe that nobody heard anything. Didn't they scream?" she mused, peering intently at her partner to gauge his reaction.

"They didn't get a chance to," Burke murmured quietly, his expression solemn as he wandered over to the body of one of the girls, her remains now splayed upon a tangle of blood sodden sheets. "Their skulls were bashed in with a heavy, blunt object and the girls were dead before they ever got a chance to wake up."

"Have we any ID on the weapon?" Veronica cut in curiously, her eyes drawn to the elaborate collage of photographs pinned onto the wall, the pictures glistening with a fine sheen of blood. Their skin glowing with the hint of a summer tan and their orthodontic perfected smile beaming happily for the camera, the girls were captured at significant high school events such as senior prom and cheerleader rallies and though she hated herself for even thinking it, Veronica knew these would have been the kind of girls she would have loved to have hated at high school. There was a certain 09'er quality about them, she mused thoughtfully, an almost arrogance in their way they posed, that brought Madison Sinclaire immediately to mind.

"The lab are working on it," the FBI agent responded absently, picking his way carefully through the crime scene as though sensing there was something they were missing. "Though they are working on the assumption that it was a hammer of some sort based on the series of indentations on the victims' heads."

Moving in to get a closer look, Veronica took a step back repulsed by the sheer quantity of bright red pooled under the victim's head. The fact that the girl had blonde hair was hardly recognizable, her hair stained almost brown by the clumps of dried blood matted into her head. Swallowing heavily, Veronica forced herself to refocus her efforts on the investigation of the crime scene, when a glint of something shiny caught her eye.

"I wonder why CSI didn't process this bracelet Karen is wearing," she mused audibly, bending carefully over the girl's limp wrist, to gain a closer view of the delicate piece of jewelry.

"Bracelet? What bracelet?" Agent Burke demanded impatiently, abandoning his photographing of some of the blood splatter patterns of the wall to investigate Veronica's claims. "CSI didn't find anything on the bodies other than the pajamas they were wearing and a stomach piercing on Karen Jones."

"This," Veronica replied, indicating the thin bracelet to the FBI agent with a pointed finger. On closer inspection, it was easy to see how the piece of jewelry had been overlooked. So congealed with blood, only the tiniest glint of silver distinguished the bracelet as being a separate entity to the sticky, bloody mess that now constituted the gruesome remains of Amy Philip's body.

"Fuck, you're right," Burke murmured, intently photographing the position of the bracelet before removing it with gloved hands and bagging the piece of jewelry for evidence. "I can't believe the guys missed this."

"It's probably nothing," Veronica shrugged, though inwardly she was cautiously hopeful. Girls like Amy Philips didn't wear the cheap, gaudy offerings of Claire's Accessories that the bracelet discovered on her arm clearly was. Girls like Amy Philips, (or Madison Sinclaire), she considered snidely, wore expensive pieces from the likes of Tiffany's and Bulgari.

Her partner didn't reply, just pulled off his latex gloves with an audible snap. "I think we're finished up here, for now. How about we get home and grab a few hours sleep while we can?" Burke suggested wearily and Veronica guessed by the expression on his face that he was thinking of spending a few hours with his wife and his daughter. Veronica had no such loving family unit to return home to, but the thought of her bed and catching a few hours sleep was comforting enough to make up for that fact.

"Sure," Veronica agreed, heading eagerly for the door, already anticipating the few precious hours that would be spent hopefully, unconscious.

--

Dragging her fingers through her shower dampened lengths of hair, Veronica struggled to surpress a yawn as she sat back in her seat, waiting for Mac to show. She was early, having overestimated the extent of the Friday evening traffic and the almost suffocating heat of the bar she had agreed to meet her friend in, was seriously impacting on her ability to keep her eyes open. Plans to catch-up on lost sleep had been thwarted by some unavoidable paperwork and an untimely phone call from her father. Consequently, Veronica was exhausted, certain that the only thing keeping her from falling asleep right there and then at the table, was the innumerable cups of strong coffee she had consumed at the office before flying out the door to meet Mac.

"Hey, Veronica,"

Seeing Mac throw herself into the chair opposite her, Veronica smiled at her friend in welcome, relishing the laid back attitude of the girl. Hair that could be shot through with pink one week, could be tinged with blue the next or even be reinstated to it's natural brown color the following week if an important meeting demanded it. Recruited by a top software computer company for her reputed hacking skills, Mac operated under a relatively flexible work schedule, which unlike Veronica's, at least afforded her the luxury of a full nights sleep.

"Well, what's the big news?" Veronica pressed her friend curiously, her blue eyes widening expectantly as she leaned forward in her chair. Not one for dramatics, Mac never made a big deal out anything, not when she'd landed her dream job at Apple and certainly not when she'd started dating her current boyfriend, Brian Matthews, Veronica only learning about the relationship when a photograph of the happy couple was tagged on facebook. So when Mac had called her at work, saying she needed to talk to her immediately, Veronica had been understandably suspicious.

"Brian proposed and I said yes," she thrilled in a tone so uncharacteristic of Mac, who was normally so calm and reserved.

"That's brilliant news, Mac," Veronica replied happily, grasping hold of her friend's left hand to catch a glance at the ring. "As long as you don't expect me to be a bridesmaid or Maid of Honor or any of those jobs that would require me to wear purple or pink," she added wryly, aiming a pointed look at Mac before politely inspecting the generous ring.

"Nah, that's what cousins are for, so don't worry," she reassured Veronica brightly, her smile momentarily widening as she caught sight of her engagement ring before withdrawing her hand from Veronica and placing it discreetly under the table. "Anyway, what's the news with you, Veronica? I feel like, I haven't seen you in ages."

"That's because you haven't," Veronica scolded her jokingly, knowing the long hours she put in at the FBI were as much to blame as Mac's infatuation with Brian for the recent distance that had set in between the two girls. "And anyway, don't think we're going to be talking about me, when you've just gotten engaged. I expect details, Mac, you know, potential wedding plans, potential wedding dress ideas, that kind of thing," she pressed her friend expectantly, knowing by the look on Mac's face that she was sounding like some crazy sort of bridezilla. "I mean, have you set a date?" she finished lamely, inwardly cursing her late night addiction to reruns of 'Whose Wedding is it anyway?'.

"Probably sometime next June," she replied lightly, a teasing grin crossing her face as she gazed thoughtfully at Veronica. "You know, I'll have to rethink the whole bridesmaids situation. You sound like you'd make a great bridesmaid with all those questions. How does lilac taffeta grab you?"

"You do that and you die," Veronica joked, glowering at her friend with carefully narrowed eyes before the sound of her cell phone ringing incessantly in her bag, forced her to put a momentary halt to their conversation.

"Mars," she spoke resignedly into the phone, rolling her eyes in apology to Mac.

It was Burke. "Veronica, you need to get in here, now. You won't fucking believe this but Amy Philips, one of the victims from this morning, is Congressman Philips' daughter."

"You're joking," Veronica sounded in shock, running her fingers distractedly through the choppy lengths of blonde hair.

"I wish I was," Burke sighed deeply and Veronica could almost visualize the exhaustion on his face. "It's all over the media; there isn't a television station that haven't picked this up as their lead story."

"I'll see you in ten," Veronica agreed resignedly, making plans with Mac to meet for congratulatory drinks later in the week, before rushing out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for all the encouraging words so far! **

Smothering a yawn in the heel of her hand, Veronica struggled to appear alert and composed as she dragged herself into the well worn conference room, her seat chosen strategically for it's proximity to the supply of coffee. The scene was a familiar one composed of taped up photographs and weary faces, the team resigned to the fact that they would have to say goodbye to the vast majority of their weekends and precious time spent with family and kids until the case was solved. Normally a team of four to six agents would be assigned to a case; today Veronica noticed there was at least ten. Politics, she sighed inwardly, pouring herself a much needed cup of steaming coffee. Growing up, she had always been taught that it didn't matter who you were, but it was what you did and how you conducted yourself on this planet was what counted. Which was utter crap, Veronica now knew, because it did matter. There were children going missing, people getting shot at and murdered every day, and no one gave a shit about them because their father wasn't a part owner of some huge multimillion corporation, or in Amy Philip's case, a father who was a member of Congress.

"Did you manage to get any shut eye, Mars?" Burke asked her, collapsing into the seat beside her and pouring himself a generous mug of coffee.

"I wish," Veronica snorted, pushing an escaped lock of blonde hair behind her ear and gazing at him with a bemused look. "How about you?"

"Same," he sighed, mumbling some irritable comment about the baby being sick and his wife being pissed, when the sight of the unit chief, Marilyn Hauser sweeping into the room immediately silenced him.

"Morning all," she began, her cool gaze sweeping across the faces of the attending agents. "Now, I don't need to tell any of you, the potential shit storm we could land ourselves in if we fuck this up. Tread carefully people. Don't leave anything to chance. Now, to begin, what do we know about the unsub?" the unit chief demanded with raised eyebrows, directing her question at Veronica.

Marilyn Hauser had always liked Veronica. Maybe it was because she saw a little of herself in the young FBI agent, but the fact was that she respected Veronica and gave credence to her theories, when sometimes no one else would. Her hair usually scraped back into a rigid, unyielding bun and her uniform pristine and unwrinkled, nobody knew much about Marilyn Hauser other than the fact that she had a son and a dog and a husband she hadn't seen in over a year. The older woman never joined the team for after work drinks or the oft planned, rarely enacted poker game but Marilyn was a fair, decent woman and had on the most part, garnered the respect of every FBI agent on the team.

"My feeling, is that the attacker fits in with the college student profile." Veronica began, taking a minute to clear her throat before she continued. "He was able to navigate the UCLA campus and even enter the sorority house without prompting suspicion. Even more telling, was the fact there was a party going on in the nearby Omega Chi fraternity house and not one person has reported a sighting of anything suspect. It has to mean something," she insisted, her eyes widening for emphasis as she settled back into her chair.

"Good, Agent Mars. Now, what else do we have? her piercing blue eyed gaze upon Burke, calling on him to continue.

"While we can't rule out the possibility that the unsub is female, the sheer level of violence inflicted on the victims suggests the perpetrator is male." Agent Burke informed the table of FBI agents matter-of-factly, his arms folded casually behind his head. "Furthermore, forensics have already identified the weapon used as a thirty-two ounce framing hammer and statistics on the profile of a killer who would use such a weapon again points strongly to our killer being a man."

"Have we a match on the partial fingerprint found on the bracelet found on Amy's body?" Marilyn Hauser demanded impatiently, Veronica sensing the strain the politics surrounding the murders was already having on the woman.

"Nothing," a more senior agent confirmed disappointedly, his years of experience meaning he worked the most high profile cases. "We ran the prints through the system and came up with squat."

"Impossible," Marilyn Hauser shot back dismissively, seemingly unconvinced by this new turn of events. Veronica didn't blame her. It had been her exact reaction when she had been confronted with the news. "Animals like this don't come from nowhere, there must be some record of his previous crimes, somewhere."

But there wasn't, Veronica knew. The prints had been run through Interpol, VICAP, all systems returning similar results, that the man they knew to be a monster, was squeaky clean, at least in the eyes of the law.

"There's more," Veronica spoke up, smoothing a hand agitatedly over her slightly disheveled ponytail. "We believe the unsub placed the bracelet on Amy wrist before he killed her. None of Amy's friends or family could identify it. In fact, they were all very definite that Amy wouldn't, in their words," she smirked, "be caught dead wearing it."

"And can we get an ID on this bracelet?" she demanded impatiently, the woman clearly feeling the strain of the previous day.

"It's mass produced junk," Veronica supplied with a helpless shrug. "The unsub would have been able to purchase it in any numbers of stores. There's no way, we can trace it to a single store or location."

Sighing audibly, Marilyn Hauser folded her arms resolutely before beginning to address her team. "People, I don't need to impress on you the importance of bringing the case to a swift resolution. This unsub is extremely dangerous and is at high risk of attacking again."

After issuing a few, further directions to her team and ordering them to reconvene in the office later that evening, the unit chief muttered some strained words of encouragement before sweeping out of the room.

An hour later and Veronica and Burke found themselves in the kitchen of Jennifer Morgan's temporary accommodation, the girls fingers wrapped around a mug of steaming coffee as she gazed at the FBI agents tearfully. Former sorority member and occasional running partner of Karen Jones, the girl sat up rigidly on the chair, her expression agitated as though she couldn't relax. Gone was the make-up and the expensive clothes Veronica suspected was typical of the blonde sophomore and in it's place were old flannel pajama bottoms and a faded tank top, her eyes swollen from crying.

"Tell me about Amy and Karen," Veronica directed the girl, unable to stop her eyes sweeping over the untidy chaos of the room, empty beer bottles and plastic cups littering the floor.

"They were best friends," she began shakily, swallowing heavily before continuing. "Just typical nineteen-year-olds. They liked to party, liked to have fun but they always maintained their grades."

"How well would you say you knew Amy and Karen?" Veronica continued to press the girl, Jennifer on her part, taking a long drink from her coffee before answering nervously.

"Very well, I mean we lived together, ate together, socialized together. You get to know people pretty quickly, when you spend that much time in their company."

Settling back in her chair, Veronica considered the girl's response carefully. Jennifer was right, she knew; living with somebody was the quickest way to expose any dirty secrets they might possess. The question was, did either Amy Philips or Karen Jones have anything dark or unsavory about themselves that they needed to conceal.

"What can you remember from Tuesday night?" Veronica asked in a softer voice, knowing what the question demanded of the girl. Jennifer had been the one to discover the body after stumbling home from a nightclub and bursting into the girls' room to continue the party.

"There was so much blood," she answered simply, a fresh wave of tears cascading down her cheek as Veronica delved into the more specific details of the crime scene.

"So that was a waste of time," Veronica grumbled irritably as she stalked away from the apartment block with Burke in tow struggling to keep up.

"Well, what did you expect, Veronica," Burke snorted in amusement, the gravel crunching beneath their feet as they walked up to the car. "They're teenage girls not piranhas."

"Are you sure you attended high school?" Veronica countered incredulously before breaking into a smile as she unlocked the door of the car. "Don't mind me," she murmured dismissively. "I'm just tired and cranky. It's been a really crappy day."

"You want to grab a beer?" Burke asked casually, turning to face Veronica, the exhaustion on his face evident.

"You don't want to get back to your family?" Veronica returned skeptically, staring unblinking out the windscreen into the already darkening night.

"Are you joking me?" Burke commented gruffly, swinging onto the off ramp a little too sharply giving Veronica the impression that not all was well at home. "The baby isn't sleeping well at the moment and we're both exhausted but somehow, she's tireder than me." Veronica could hear the sarcasm in his voice and not for the first time she was glad she wasn't burdened with the responsibility of a husband and children. Their job just wasn't made for it.

"So how about it?" Burke suggested again and though she was exhausted, Veronica had to admit that anything at this point would be more appealing to going back to that cold, dark apartment alone again.

"Sure, why not?" she shrugged, self-consciously smoothing a hand over her now tangled lengths of hair and hoping the application of make-up hastily applied that morning had held up, though she knew it hadn't. You never knew who you could run into in an L.A. bar. Celebrities, old school friends, Logan Echolls.

The pair seated in high stools at the bar, Veronica and Burke chatted contentedly as they slowly sipped from their cool bottles of beer. On the few rare times, Veronica found occasion to be in a bar, she always limited herself to one bottle of beer. There were exceptions of course, her twenty-first birthday in particular springing to mind when she and Mac drank their way through a rather extensive list of cocktails. But in general, Veronica drank little and seldom and she never drank vodka; a glimpse of the ravaged ruins of her mother's life being reason enough never touch the stuff.

--

Carefully slicing her poached egg into small, precise pieces, Veronica took a grateful sip from her first coffee of the morning before gazing at her father warily. "Any word from Mom?" she asked hopefully, her spirits dropping immediately at the resigned expression on her father's face.

Liane had yet again descended into one of her infamous drinking binges and neither Veronica nor Keith had seen her in days.

"Veronica, there's nothing you can do about this," her father sighed helplessly and Veronica knew he was right, her mother relapsing after Veronica had spent the entirety of her college money on rehab only the first of a hard series of lessons that had demonstrated to Veronica the lack if control she possessed over her mother's condition.

Quietly considering her father's response, Veronica sipped her coffee thoughtfully, feeling strangely comforted by the familiarity of the surroundings. The Diner was a grubby sort of place, a well worn institution of Neptune that served the best waffles and pancakes in town and it was there Veronica met her father for breakfast, at least once a week. Veronica had been going to the diner since she was a young girl with her father and the place held a special significance to them as a place where much daddy daughter bonding time had taken place.

"How's Alicia?" she asked in an effort to change the subject, Veronica preferring not to sour the few precious hours a week she shared with her father with thoughts of Liane.

"She's good," Keith replied and Veronica smiled, happy her father had found happiness again, rekindling his relationship with Alicia Fennel, the pair meeting randomly in a restaurant in town. As it happened the meeting wasn't so random; Veronica and Wallace conspiring in a manner reminiscent to their high school days where an 'interview with a suspect' organized by Veronica and a 'date with an old girl friend' arranged by Wallace brought the pair together in a softly lit Italian restaurant. "And you know Wallace is coming home this weekend?

"Yeah, I'm collecting him from the airport." Veronica replied, tucking a stray blonde length of hair behind her ear. "We're going to Mac and Brian's engagement party. Apparently his parents have sprung for some very fancy party in The Beverly Hills hotel. Just as long as work doesn't get in the way," she added darkly, knowing that the chances of her not being called into the office, even on a day off, were very slim indeed.

"Brian's a doctor and he's got rich parents," her father whistled jokingly. "Honey, you've got to get yourself one of those. "We could be set for life,"

"I don't seem to do too good with rich people, Dad, or haven't you noticed?" Veronica replied wryly,

"Tell me, how's the case going?" Keith probed his daughter curiously, pushing away his now empty, grease smeared plate, an expectant expression on his face. "I saw you on the news report earlier."

"Honestly dad we have nothing," she sighed dejectedly, pushing the cold remains of her egg distractedly around the plate. "These girls are your typical straight A students and there is absolutely nothing to suggest they have any links to the murderer. At the moment it's looking like an unfortunate case of being in the wrong place in the wrong time."

"Those poor kids," Keith murmured sympathetically, before glancing at his daughter sharply. "Well, you be sure you stay in the right place, do you hear me?" he cautioned her sternly and Veronica couldn't help but feel warmed by her father's concern.

"Of course, Dad," Veronica reassured him with a patient smile, knowing her father worried about her. Not that she blamed him. "How's the office?"

"Good and by good, I mean quiet." he smiled gratefully, lounging back in his chair and draining the last of his coffee.

"The Fitzpatrick's are behaving themselves?" Veronica retorted in disbelief.

"Well, no," her father allowed, a bemused expression on his face. "But I suppose, they aren't all bad. For one, they're keeping me in a job."

"I suppose," Veronica laughed, before eyeing her father apologetically. "Dad, I have to go. I'm meeting Burke to interview Amy's boyfriend. I'll see you for dinner tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay, honey. Just be careful and remember what I said about you and I being set for life. There will be a lot of doctors at the party tomorrow night,"

Funny, Dad," Veronica shot back sarcastically as she pushed out her chair and reached for her bag. It wasn't so much rich doctors but asshole ex-boyfriends she was interested in meeting tomorrow night. Veronica would be surprised if Logan hadn't heard about the party through Dick or Casey and all the high school fuck buddies they had regular contact with. Veronica wasn't sure if she would be happy or excited to see Logan but she was definitely curious about the possibility.

--

Alan Hayes was a tall, dark-haired guy, well-dressed and at that moment he was looking most definitely scared. A quick background check on Alan had revealed that like Amy, he came from a very wealthy family, his father serving as CEO for a large pharmaceutical company. By all accounts, Alan and Amy had been madly in love, dating since they were freshmen, the pair attending an elite private school in Los Angeles. Gazing at a loved-up photograph of the couple, head cheerleader Amy posing in the arms of her star quarter back boyfriend Alan, the couple just made sense, Veronica mused unable to stop her thoughts returning to her own rather more fucked-up relationship with Logan.

Veronica could never have claimed to have been a member of a cheerleader team and Logan certainly had never been on the football team but in their own way, they had made sense. Their strength lay in the differences between them and the balancing effects each one in the relationship offered the other. They had had fun, the sex had been amazing. They had been good together and despite all the doubt and uncertainly centered around their having a future together, Veronica could at least hold onto that. Maybe the next time the answering machine beeped red, Veronica wouldn't be so quick to delete the message. Hell, this time, she might even return the call.

Snapping out of her reverie, Veronica turned to question the boy. "Alan could you tell me about your whereabouts on the night of the 7th September 2009?

Staring at him, she was struck by how lost and scared he seemed, emotions Veronica sensed were new to a guy who seemed to have everything.

"I was out with my college buddies. We were at a bar in town all night and afterwards I just went home,"

"You didn't go back to your girlfriends house?" Burke cut in questioningly, resting back in his seat, his arms folded resolutely as he stared expectantly at the boy.

"I was too drunk," Alan replied and Veronica could hear the panic in his voice. "And I knew she'd kill me. I wish, I had now though and this might never have happened."

"Do you have somebody to back this story up?" Veronica asked in a softer tone, feeling a huge amount of pity for the boy.

"Yeah, my friends were with me. You don't think I had anything to do with this do you? he demanded as though only suddenly realizing the reason for two FBI agents to be questioning him. "I would never hurt Amy. I loved her."

And the thing was, Veronica believed him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the late delay on updating this story. Work and college kind of took over there for a while:) **

**Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys! **

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_**The minute people fall in love, they become liars. - Harlan Ellison**_

Rain streaking wildly down the windscreen of her car and the wind howling furiously outside, the depressing state of the weather seemed oddly fitting as Veronica battled to secure herself a parking space in the crowded parking lot of the airport. The journey to the airport had been intolerably slow, the roads clogged with the usual glut of weekend traffic. Visions of the two murdered girls sprawled out on their beds weighed heavily on Veronica's mind and their lack of progress on the case was worst than maddening. She should be there, she knew. Regardless of the fact that Mac was one of her closest friends and that this was her engagement party. (Not to mention the fact that she hadn't took an evening off in weeks.) But Veronica hated having to relinquish control of a case, even if it was only for a few hours. She should turn off her cell phone, she knew, turn off her phone and concentrate on having normal fun for a change. Her finger hovering over the power button, Veronica was about to turn it off before reconsidering and dropping the cell phone still on into her bag. Wallace would kill her if he knew.

Her hands clamped protectively over her head, Veronica raced through the miserable, freezing rain but even so was practically soaked to her skin by the time she slipped gratefully through the sliding doors to the building. The airport was the usual Friday chaotic hell. It was too hot, too noisy, babies and children squalling furiously, indignant of having been forced to suffer through the seemingly endless check-in queues that snaked around the crowded hall.

"Hey, Veronica," Wallace greeted her warmly, the oversized duffle bag that had been slung casually over his shoulder now discarded on the tiled floor as he pulled his friend into a warm, familiar hug. "How have things been with you?"

"Good, you know, the usual." Veronica shrugged with deliberate casualness, tossing her blonde hair lightly over her shoulder. "Meeting the girls for lunch, getting my nails done, shopping and all that jazz. And yourself?"

"The same," Wallace joked, jokingly admiring his stubby nails.

"Seriously, Wallace, what's the news with you?" Veronica demanded excitedly, her mood already infinitely brighter just being in the vicinity of her BFF. "Please tell me you are not still dating that crazy stalker girl, Jess?"

"What can I say?" Wallace shrugged sheepishly, flashing Veronica an indulgent smile. "She has it hot for me and who am I to say no? And anyway, stalker is a little strong don't you think?"

"She rang you twenty-seven times that one night when we were in the nightclub." Veronica retorted with a teasing grin, steering him away expertly from a gang of overexcited teenagers, their luggage trundling wildly behind them.

"She was just worried you wouldn't be able to resist the Fennel charms, that's all." he countered distractedly, his attention temporarily diverted by a passing tall and stunning brunette.

"For a girl who seems to be so obsessed with you, she doesn't know you very well," Veronica replied, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Funny, Veronica," he replied distractedly narrowing avoiding collision with a wayward child skipping excitedly away from her red-faced mother. "I'll remember that when you're looking to introduce me to some asshole of a boyfriend. Speaking of which, have you heard anything from Logan?"

"No, and that's what I want," Veronica replied reassuringly, though the false optimism was blatant in her voice. "I haven't time to put up with his shit what with work and everything. Working with the FBI takes up all my energy and I swear most nights I have barely the energy to have a shower and make myself something to eat much less have to provide the extra duties being a girlfriend requires.

"Glad you're not my girlfriend," Wallace retorted in mock-horror, giving Veronica an incredulous look. "You make being in a relationship with you sound like so much fun.

"You know what I mean, Wallace," Veronica protested laughing as the pair stepped tentatively through the sliding doors, bracing themselves for the stormy backlash of rain and wind before running towards Veronica's car.

--

"Sheesh Veronica, there was no need to go such an effort on my part," Wallace commented wryly, tossing his bag on the floor and surveying the untidy bordering on chaotic mess that was scattered throughout the compact space. Waiting-to-be-ironed shirts were draped carelessly over the various pieces of furniture and piles of case files were heaped untidily on the much abused coffee table.

"Cleaning the apartment was penciled in for Wednesday afternoon but when those two bodies turned up, it sort of put my cleaning schedule out of kilter." Veronica retorted with a bright smile, gathering up the assortment of shirts in an untidy bundle in her arms before tossing them abruptly into her bedroom.

"I saw that on the news," Wallace replied distractedly, rummaging through his bag and pulling out an untidy jumble of clothes onto the floor. "What a waste," he concluded grimly, zipping up the bag and kicking it lazily into the corner. "Those girls were hot."

"I'm going to pretend that I didn't hear that," Veronica commented lightly, shaking her head in disapproval as she continued her rampage of the kitchen, practically flinging crumb strewn plates and coffee stained mugs into the already heaving dishwasher. "You heard we're invited to the Mars-Fennel household for dinner tomorrow?"

"Yeah, how are the happy couple?" Wallace cut in curiously, wandering into the narrow kitchen behind her and pulling open the door of the fridge.

"Happy," Veronica responded with a shrug, scraping the sad remains of a salad into the garbage before running a damp cloth lazily over the now cleared surfaces.

"Not too happy, I hope," Wallace retorted darkly, his disapproving tone prompting a smile to widen across Veronica's face. "Veronica, where's the food?"

"Actually, Wallace, grocery shopping was the other job I had scheduled for Wednesday," Veronica replied wryly, running her fingers distractedly through the stringy lengths of blonde hair. "But there might be some crackers in the cupboard." she chanced hopefully, immediately rummaging through the pathetic display of canned tomatoes and abandoned packages of spaghetti on the otherwise empty shelves.

"Might," Wallace groaned dramatically, clutching his stomach in mock-agony. "What happened to the Veronica who used to bake me cookies and hide them in my locker, like the good BFF she was?"

"Here," Veronica proclaimed excitedly, triumphantly producing a pack of Oreos from the deepest recesses of the cupboard. "Now, I've got to go shower so I'll look someway normal for tonight," she sighed, gesturing disparagingly at her rain sodden clothes and limp hair.

"You're a goddess, Veronica," Wallace declared happily, pouring himself a glass of milk as he munched eagerly into cookies.

--

Smoothing a hand over her carefully arranged chignon, Veronica tucked her arm through Wallace's as they strode into the elegant foyer of the hotel, the pompously suited doorman stiffly saluting them in welcome. Decorated solely in a warm mixture of creams with a magnificent chandelier dominating much of the space, the hotel lobby exuded a sense of good-taste and wealth. Veronica recognized a few of the guests vaguely as some of her previous classmates from Neptune High but she felt no desire to start making spontaneous small talk with people she considered virtual strangers.

Back in her stuffy apartment, the dress Veronica had chosen while posing uncertainly in front of the mirror, had seemed sophisticated and appropriate for the occasion. Now, gazing at the expensively dressed guests milling around the foyer with glasses of champagne in hand she wasn't so sure. Engrossed in a crime scene, surrounded by mangled corpses and pools of blood, Veronica felt perfectly at ease but here, in this hotel, having to smile and force conversations with her better-dressed counterparts, she felt slightly sick.

"Drink?" she suggested to Wallace brightly, the flutes of champagne and strawberries being circulated throughout the crowd looking increasingly attractive.

"That girly looking drink," Wallace exclaimed in joking indignation, gesturing horrified towards the table of strawberry bedecked drinks. "Drinking that would be a direct attack on my masculinity

Completely disregarding his concerns, Veronica plucked two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and passed one with a bright smile to Wallace. "I wonder where Mac is?"

Her eyes roving over the foyer, Veronica's gaze settled on a group of exquisitely dressed women were gathered in a tight bunch in a corner of the room, gushing theatrically over what was presumably the bride-to-be's ring.

Although Mac could hardly be described as the shy and retiring type, she was however, not one for purposely drawing attention to herself and Veronica could only imagine the tortured expression on Mac's face as she would be forced to rehash the story of the engagement with Brian for the umpteenth time.

Wallace must have shared her sentiments for he turned to her with a bemused smile. "That girl needs our help," he declared with a dramatic sigh, dragging Veronica over to where Mac was surrounded by the tight clique of cooing, chattering blondes.

Her dark hair curled loosely around her shoulders, Mac regarded Veronica with an expression that could only be described as sheer relief as she pulled away from the overeager crowd of women.

"It's so good to see you, guys," Mac smiled gratefully as she took a long sip from her champagne cocktail. "What the hell took you so long. If I heard the word tulle one more time, I was going to kill somebody,"

"Somebody decided to spend too long at the mirror,"Wallace retorted jovially, gesturing playfully towards Veronica before pulling Mac into a congratulatory hug. "Now am I supposed to look at your ring and say it's lovely and all that?" he wondered in sheer bewilderment to the looks of sheer amusement on Veronica and Mac's faces.

"Please don't," Mac begged, a beseeching smile spreading across her face as she dragged Wallace and Veronica over to the furthermost corner of the room. "After the conversations I've been having tonight, I never want to talk about weddings again."

"Where's the famous Brian Matthews?" Veronica demanded curiously, taking a careful sip from the glass of champagne.

"At the bar, getting my father horribly drunk drinking whiskey," she replied with a disapproving shake of her head. "He's dying to meet the two of you. I'll have to introduce you two to him in a minute after we've had a chance to properly catch-up."

"See thats where I should be," Wallace grumbled only half-jokingly as he glanced disparagingly at the glass of champagne still clutched in his hand.

The conversation descended into the familiar lighthearted banter reminiscent of their high school days and Veronica finally relaxed for what felt like the first time in days. Plucking another glass of champagne from the tray of a pass waiter, she took an eager sip surprised at how quickly she was rendered slightly lightheaded from the small amount of alcohol. No more champagne for you Mars, she determined wryly, placing the still full glass on an adjoining table. Hangovers and work weren't a mixture Veronica was willing to experiment with at the moment.

Glancing up, Veronica noticed Mac and Wallace's conversation had inexplicably dried up and their gazes were centered on her

"I know, I know, I need to get a life," Veronica declared, before stopping when she realized the focus of their attention was not directed towards Veronica herself, but rather on a lone figure standing at a distance behind.

Logan, Veronica realized belatedly, goose pimples rising on her skin at his mere proximity. She hadn't seen him in months, naively believing that the enforced separation would ultimately rid her of her feelings for her ex-boyfriend. Unfortunately, if anything the break had had the opposite effect on Veronica, making her yearn all the more for Logan and for how things had been between them. The weeks apart had been sheer torture but Veronica had persevered in a fashion reminiscent to a soldier braving bootcamp. She had ignored his phone calls, avoided all the places she knew he'd be and had in the most part been successful but Veronica hadn't counted on this, on meeting him when she felt so out of place and insecure and on territory that definitely favored Logan's rich boy status. They had so much to say and this hardly seemed to be the place to do it.

"Go talk to him," Mac urged her, sensing Veronica's reluctance to initiate conversation with Logan but understanding the importance of her doing so, if only to get closure on their relationship.

Wallace wasn't as encouraging, the tight expression on his displaying his exact feelings towards Logan Echolls. But he kept his mouth shut all the same,

"Come on, Wallace, let's get you a proper drink," Mac declared brightly, quickly deciphering the situation and pulling him away in the direction of the bar leaving Veronica standing awkwardly in front of an equally apprehensive Logan.

In the initial aftermath of the break-up, Veronica had bitterly rehearsed the millions of cutting, scornful jibes that she would throw at him the first opportunity she got. But now, standing there in front of him, Veronica could say nothing, the words she had so carefully concocted, rendered frozen in her throat.

"You look good, Veronica,"

Picking up the abandoned glass of champagne, Veronica took a long eager drink already resenting Logan for the ease with which he had initiated conversation. Charm had always been Logan's modus operandi in defusing a difficult situation.

"How have you been?" he continued seemingly unperturbed, though he ran a hand self-consciously through his newly shortened hair.

"Good," Veronica smiled brightly, though she felt nervous as hell, praying that the faint quiver in her hand wouldn't betray her as she took another guilty sip from the champagne. "I've been busy, you know the usual?"

"You mean work has been busy," Logan corrected her knowingly and Veronica felt like punching him in the face. Work had always been a sore point between them. Veronica never considered Logan committed himself enough to his job, while Logan believed Veronica was truly obsessed. Lying in bed, the pair entangled in one another, Logan used moan bitterly when Veronica's cell phone would regularly ring, disturbing what was often an impassioned lovemaking session.

He wasn't drinking, Veronica noticed, a glass of water perched in place of what was usually an alcoholic drink of some kind. It suited him. He looked good; better than he had in a long while. The blue of his shirt brought out the blue of his eyes and his abstinence from alcohol had done wonders for his skin.

Even more than the demands Veronica's job placed on their relationship were those of Logan's drinking, which was often excessive, especially after one of their numerous fights. By the time Veronica had been ready to walk out, that was all they had seemed to do.

"You're not drinking," Veronica observed with deliberate casualness, and Veronica could feel his eyes

"I think I've done enough of that, don't you?

Veronica on her part didn't answer. She had Logan weren't a couple anymore and as such his drinking habits weren't a concern of her hers anymore. "Why are you here anyway?" she pressed him curiously, running a hand over her blonde hair and gazing at him expectantly. Logan and Mac had never been particularly close and engagements parties definitely weren't Logan's scene. Especially when he was sober.

"I came to see you," he shrugged, slightly flustered and at the bluntness of his reply, Veronica almost died. She'd suspected as much when she first saw him shuffling awkwardly at the door but hearing the words coming out of Logan's own mouth made it all the more unnerving.

Taking another nervous drink from the glass of champagne, Veronica could feel Logan's eyes boring into her skin. His effect on her was staggering and Veronica knew she had to distance herself from him quickly. Just seconds of being with Logan and Veronica's resolve was already failing. All the reasons she's so carefully crafted as to why she was better off without Logan suddenly seemed utterly meaningless and Veronica was certain that if she carried out this charade for any longer, she'd end up back in Logan's bed. Back to where she swore she would never return. And the past few months of hell would have been for nothing.

"I should go," she stated reluctantly, placing the glass of champagne on the table and backing away towards the small clusters of guests milling around the bar.

"Please, don't," Logan implored of her, catching hold of her hand and pulling her close. "We need to talk."

"About what?" Veronica demanded frustratedly, though she had to admit she enjoyed the press of his hand closed so tightly around hers.

"About us," he pleaded and the look of utter desperation on his face was heart wrenching. "You won't take my calls. You ignore my messages. I don't know what else to do."

"So you follow me to an engagement party and what, try and get me into bed with you?" Veronica retorted incredulously, though inwardly her steely resolve was beginning to soften.

"Exactly, though without the whole falling into bed together thing. Though, if it's on offer," Logan returned slyly, the frankness of his reply prompting a small smile to spread across Veronica's face. With all his flaws, Logan always did know how to lighten a situation.

"I miss you, Veronica," he admitted quietly, his cheeks slightly reddening though he managed to maintain eye-contact with Veronica. "And I know I fucked up but I would do anything to put things right. You've got to believe that,"

Logan wasn't the only one who'd fucked-up, Veronica knew, but she kept quiet, afraid of what she'd say if she actually dared to put voice to her feelings. So engrossed in her job, Veronica had neglected their relationship dreadfully, letting things slide to the point that when she eventually realized there were problems between them, they had seemed almost impossible to surmount.

"I've missed you too," she finally relented, horribly aware that the space between them was rapidly diminishing. His lips were on hers then, his arms wrapped possessively around her slim frame and the world just seemed to fall away as Veronica returned his advances eagerly.

"What are we doing, Logan?" Veronica sighed uncertainly, when they finally broke apart, her head still reeling from the intense emotion that was behind his embrace.

"I thought we were kissing," Logan replied with that familiar, cocky expression on his face, though behind it all, Veronica could sense that he was worried. "And then, after that, we could see," he added with a playful wink.

"I just think we shouldn't rush into something we might regret later," Veronica replied with a shrug though she struggled to come up with a single reason as to why they should stay apart.

"That's the thing about you, Veronica, you always think too much about things," Logan chided her, with a teasing shake of his head as he pulled her down into the plushly covered seat beside him. "You should be more like me. You know, a feet first, head later kind of thing. You'll find, it's a lot more fun,"

"Yeah right," Veronica snorted in exasperation, though she couldn't help smiling at the teasing expression on Logan's face.

"You want to get out of here?" Logan asked her suddenly, Veronica's heart beating a little faster at the suggestion when the unwelcome ring tone of her cellphone intruded on the moment.

"Hold that thought," Veronica instructed him with a smile, her heart plummeting when she saw Burke's number light up in the display.

"Mars," she barked in the phone impatiently, wishing for a second that she'd turned of her cell phone as she'd originally planned.

"There's been another murder," Burke informed her hastily, an uncharacteristic excitement immediately evident in his voice. "And you're not going to believe this but it's our guy,"

"Already," Veronica gasped in shock, a faint shiver of apprehension already creeping over her skin. "Are you sure it's the same guy?" The blood of the first victims had barely dried.

"Definitely. He's left the same bracelet he left on Amy Philips on this latest victim."

"Fuck," Veronica exhaled slowly, letting the information sink slowly into her head. "Okay, I'm coming down there. Give me the address and I'll leave now,"

Scribbling down the address on the back of a crumpled drinks receipt discarded on the table, Veronica ignored the look of bitter disappointment on Logan's face as she took a few further details from Burke before hastily signing off.

"I've got to go, Logan," she informed him apologetically, already on her feet in her haste to get to the crime scene. "Duty calls,"

Logan looked as though he was going to disagree before apparently changing his mind at the last minute and instead taking her hand gently in his. "You can go," he allowed with a slow smile, pulling her down to him and sneaking a final kiss. "Once you promise, you'll come to dinner with me next week,"

"Agreed," Veronica promised, not even thinking, as she bounded through the crowded foyer to say her goodbyes to Mac and Wallace before rushing out the door into the cool darkness of the night.

-


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks for all the very encouraging words! They were much appreciated:)**

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**"Blood. Sometimes it sets my teeth on edge, other times it helps me control the chaos." - Dexter Morgan**

Nothing fit. Not the filthy, worn motel room, the green papered walls grimy with age nor the victim, a middle-aged bottle-blonde, the telling needle track marks that snaked up her arms and the cheap, miniscule skirt leading the police officers to believe she was a prostitute. But the bracelet did, the same gaudy piece hanging tauntingly from the woman's pale wrist that hung from Amy Philips, a thin sheen of blood sticky on the cold silver. The police had still to make an ID on the victim and a number of officers were already trawling the seedy, rundown neighborhood with a picture of the deceased woman in their hands hoping to rectify the situation

Burke was kneeling down beside the wrought iron bedstead, the gruesome remains of the woman sprawled out on the sagging, blood drenched mattress. Seeing Veronica, he greeted her with a curt nod, the distaste evident on his face as he carefully examined the bracelet dangling from the woman's wrist.

"Bet you're glad you didn't get to miss this, Veronica," he commented with a wry grin, his disposable gloves sticky with blood.

"Yeah," Veronica replied humorlessly, her stomach turning uncomfortably as her eyes slowly absorbed the scene in front of her.

The walls told their own story, the peeling wallpaper adorned in wild sprays of blood, trails of red meandering forlornly onto the linoleum floor. The bedlinen was stained a violent shade of red, the blood pooling heavily on the old, creaking mattress. But it was the expression on the dead woman's face, her features frozen in horror, that even in death betrayed the undeniable hell the woman must have gone through in the moments that led up to her death. Her blue silk shirt had been ripped violently apart in the attack, the material flapping loosely onto the bloodied sheets revealing the extent of the horrific injuries inflicted, the woman having been sliced open from her breast bone to just below her navel. The blood drained out slower now, the sticky red oozing lazily out of the gaping wound.

"Gutted like a fish," Burke uttered with a solemn shake of his head as he scribbled a few notes into a leather bound notebook. "What kind of an animal does this to another human being?"

"The kind that bashes in teenagers' heads with a hammer," Veronica sighed heavily, unable to draw her eyes away from the scene of utter carnage in front of her. "It doesn't make sense," she mused frustratedly, inwardly grappling with the huge amount of conflicting evidence this latest crime scene generated. The profile of the victims, the murder weapon, nothing fit; everything screamed that they were looking for two separate murderers and yet the silver bracelet, the sole tentative link between the two crime scene suggested otherwise.

Crime scene technicians worked tirelessly, painstakingly scouring every inch of the festering motel room for any trace of evidence as to the identity of the murderer.

"It's fucked up," Burke agreed, the confusion on his face echoing Veronica's own as they bent over the body of the victim to get a closer look at the shocking extent of the injuries. "I've never seen anything like it. It must have been some knife to cause that much of a mess. He's managed to cut in as far as the bone,"

There was some white matter shimmering ominously below the gaping wound and Veronica forced her gaze away slightly nauseated.

"I need some air," she murmured shakily, grabbing her jacket before stalking determinedly out into the moonlit black of outside.

--

The motel had fallen into a state of considerable disrepair, the pink painted walls sprayed liberally with bright flashes of graffiti. Many of the windows were boarded clumsily up and the neon sign hanging above the door, blinked lazily red, advertising the hourly rates of the motel named ironically enough, The Lucky Inn.

The night was a menacing black, the dim light cast by the moon, only making the neglected surroundings all the more grim as Veronica pushed in the creaking door of the hotel reception, the tinkle of a bell announcing her arrival.

"You're not another one of those cops, are you?" a girl who could not have been more then seventeen or eighteen demanded sullenly, her green eyes narrowed distrustfully as she glared at Veronica from behind her perch at the reception desk. "I've already told them everything I know,"

"Which is what exactly?" Veronica asked with a patient smile as she flashed her identification at the surly teen.

A faint smell of greasy take-out lingered faintly in the air and Veronica could make out the low rumble of a television emanating from the adjoining room.

"It was real quiet tonight, I only had one person into the reception since the start of my shift, so I decided to eat my dinner watching Family Guy on the television. The next thing I know, a whole bunch of cops burst into the room and are asking me questions,"

"Did you recognize the person who came into the reception area?" Veronica interjected curiously, her blues eyes scanning over the untidy space. "Maybe they checked into the motel before?"

"Wouldn't know," she shrugged lightly, tucking a stray lock of ebony hair behind her ear. "I'm just covering my mom's shift. She's at home sick and was afraid of what her boss would do if she rang in sick again."

"But you can provide a description, right?" Veronica prompted the girl hopefully, goose pimple rising unpleasantly on her skin as a cool breeze edged it's way through the creaking, swaying front door.

"He was white with dark hair," she replied vaguely, her facial features scrunched up in an expression of uncertainty as she struggled to accurately recall details of the man's appearance.

"And his height?" Veronica pressed her determinedly, her arms folded resolutely at her chest.

"Tallish," the teen replied uncertainly, curling a lock of hair distractedly around a crooked finger. "I mean, he wasn't small but you wouldn't say he was very tall either."

"So, he was of average height?" Veronica clarified with a muted sigh trying to disguise her growing exasperation.

"I suppose," she replied, a hint of doubt still present in her voice as she reached for the can of coke standing on the counter. "Anyway, I told all this to the police officers earlier," she shrugged, evidently growing bored with Veronica's line of questioning. "You can just ask them."

"Was this man with someone?" Veronica persevered unconcerned, repressing the urge to roll her eyes as the teen took a bored sip from her can of coke.

"No, he was alone," she drawled irritably, the finger still twirling around the lock of black hair. "Paid for the room and that was it,"

"Cash?"

"What else?" she replied with a weary shrug, pointing to a tattered sign tacked loosely to the wall behind the desk, which indicated that The Lucky Inn engaged in cash transactions only. "He paid forty-five dollars for three hours and that was it. The keys were tossed into the return box about an hour ago."

There was no indication that this was even the man they were looking for. It could be a simple case of unfortunate timing on his part, the man stumbling in on this forsaken motel at the same time an unspeakable act of violence was being committed only doors away from his room. And yet, Veronica couldn't afford to ignore the possibility that it could be their guy.

"Could you show me the room he checked into?" Veronica demanded authoritatively, growing weary of the teen's surly attitude.

Pushing in the peeling, cracked door of room forty-seven, Veronica was struck by the seeming orderliness of the room, the bed tidily made betraying the fact that it hadn't been slept in since the room had been last made up. The bathroom told a similar story, the twin towels hanging primly from the rusted rail and the bath bone dry, the chipped enamel still bearing the hallmarks of having been scrubbed scrupulously clean.

"When did housekeeping last make-up this room?" Veronica demanded impatiently, a hint of excitement starting to creep into her voice.

"Clara finishes at four," the teen replied, smothering a yawn with the palm of her hand. "She picks up her children from school then, so it had to have been before that,"

Not giving the girl even a chance to finish, Veronica pulled out her cellphone out of her pocket and hastily keyed in Burke's number.

"Get your butt up to room forty-seven now. I think, I have something,"

--

The first glow of orange started to color the sky as Veronica pulled in wearily to the parking lot alongside her apartment building. Her head burned with exhaustion as she already anticipated the sheer pleasure she would receive from slipping into the warmth of her bed. The previous hours had been spent interviewing the mostly reluctant occupants of the motel, their eyes red-rimmed and tired as they were subjected to a seemingly endless barrage of questions, the activities that had drawn them to the motel in the first place, long forgotten.

Stepping wearily up the single flight of stairs that led to her apartment, Veronica gave a start seeing a familiar figure slumped outside the door, a take-out carton of coffee pressed to her lips.

"Mom," Veronica greeted her mother guardedly, watching as Liane pulled herself gracefully to her feet.

Seeing her mother, Veronica was suddenly consumed by a sense of inner turmoil. On one hand, she was relieved that her mother was safe, albeit looking a little disheveled after the days without contact. However there was a still a huge piece of Veronica that was wary of the older woman, Liane having proved herself as a less than trustworthy person over the years. She had lied, stolen, hurt both Veronica and her father more times than she'd like to remember but Liane was still her mother, so it was with grudging assent that she slotted her key into the door and allowed her access into the apartment.

The cramped apartment bathed in the early morning light, Wallace lay passed out on the couch, a thin towel masquerading as a blanket thrown over him. Unwilling to disturb her friend, Veronica led the way silently into the kitchen, stepping over a trail of hastily discarded clothes as she went.

"Another coffee?" she suggested quietly before rummaging through the cupboard for some clean mugs.

Her mother had looked better, Veronica considered worriedly, withdrawing what was hopefully still fresh milk from the fridge. Liane's once immaculately groomed blonde hair was now streaked through miserably with grey and the wrinkles that had been steadily creeping in around her eyes and mouth seemed all the more pronounced.

"How have you been, Mom?" Veronica began in a measured voice, gazing at her mother thoughtfully over the rim of her mug of coffee mug.

"I've been better," Liane admitted reluctantly, her eyes lowered to the ground. "I lost my job at the restaurant and now I can't find all the money to pay the rent. Carroll is threatening to evict me if I don't pay up by tonight,"

"How much do you want?" Veronica sighed, unable to disguise her concern for her mother. Liane's reddened eyes and the stale smell of smoke clinging to her clothes betrayed the fact that she had most definitely been drinking. Money disappeared quickly when it came to Liane Mars and Veronica hated the thought that the money she would inevitably give her mother could be passed over the grimy counter of a local bar a couple of hours later.

"A hundred dollars, if you have it," she replied, her cheeks reddening at the notion of having to ask her daughter for money. "I promise, I'll pay you back as soon as I get another job," her mother continued earnestly and Veronica dutifully nodded in reply, allowing her mother indulge in what they both knew was a lie.

Reaching into her bag, Veronica pulled out the crisp notes from her wallet and handed them to her mother hastily as though eager to minimize her obvious discomfort.

Her skin prickled uncomfortably after the long hours working and Veronica's need to be clean surpassed even her desperation for a few hours sleep.

"I'm going for a quick shower, Mom but stay," Veronica pleaded with her mother, kicking off her shoes into a corner of the room. "Maybe we could go for breakfast?"

"Sure, Honey," her mother replied with false brightness, her eyes lowered again to the floor as she sipped slowly from the still steaming mug of coffee.

But when Veronica stepped out of the shower, the towel secured tightly around her slim shoulders, her mom was already long gone, as she knew she would be.

--

The dead woman had been earlier identified as Helen Bloomberg by a waitress in a local diner who reported that the victim had been a customer for years. Police had also confirmed their suspicions that Helen Bloomberg was a prostitute, the woman having two previous convictions on her record. Photographs of the crime scene were tacked to the wall, the bloodied remains of Helen Bloomberg appearing all the more disturbing when placed in the sterile surroundings of the FBI office.

Dressed immaculately in a black tailored suit, unit chief Marilyn Hauser slipped her glasses up onto the bridge of her nose as she scrutinized the appalling images being projected onto a screen.

"Are we sure it's the same guy we're looking for?" she demanded with understandable confusion, the differences in the modus operandi so stark between the two crime scenes.

"We're sure," Burke responded, his arms folded resolutely in front of him as he grimly observed the nauseating sequence of images playing out in front of him. "He left the same bracelet on the latest victim that he left on Karen Jones, almost like a token of some kind,"

"But the murder weapon doesn't match," Hauser mused audibly, frustration evident on her face as a particular graphic image of Ms. Bloomberg's remains flashed onto the screen, the cheap bracelet glinting ominously on her limp wrist. "It's extremely rare for an UNSUB to progress so rapidly onto using a different weapon."

"Maybe he's experimenting with different weapons," Veronica offered offhandedly, something niggling vaguely at the back of her head but she could hardly think straight through the fog of exhaustion that was entangled in her brain.

"It's a possibility," Marilyn acquiesced with a reluctant shrug as the photographs displayed on the screen faded suddenly to black.

--

Dinner was a simple affair of roast chicken and salad, with Veronica's contribution of a hastily purchased lemon cheesecake, rounding-off the meal perfectly. Now, beer-in-hand, she carefully loaded some of Alicia's better china into the dishwasher, while her father scrubbed the pots, his arms elbow deep in greasy, sudsy water.

"Mom called round today," Veronica informed her dad hesitantly, eager to broach the subject when they afforded a rare opportunity for privacy while the Fennel family sat glued to a replay of one of Darrell's basketball games in the living room.

"And?" Keith demanded warily, knowing from experience where the conversation was heading. "She didn't ask for money, did she?"

"She just needed a little money to help pay the rent," Veronica admitted slowly, wondering why she was always so quick to come to her mother's defense.

Her father didn't speak for a while after that, though the tight expression on his face articulated more than his voice ever could.

"I heard there was the body of a woman discovered in Richmond last night," her father commented curiously, somehow the conversation relating to a dead body infinitely more comfortable than their seemingly never ending discussion about . "Channel Four are reporting that there may be a link between the murder and that of the UCLA kids the other night,"

"Are they really?" Veronica replied vaguely, an evasive smile on her face as she took a long swig from her bottle of beer. "They really need to check their sources more carefully,"

"So you're saying there's no link between the killings," Keith shot back slyly, knowing when his daughter was holding something back.

"I didn't say that either," Veronica countered with a playful shrug, running a damp cloth hastily over the crumb strewn counter space. Alicia always was fastidious about household cleanliness.

"How did Mac's engagement party go?" Keith cut in curiously before reaching into the fridge and pulling out another beer.

"Great, before I got called into work," Veronica added darkly, surveying the compact kitchen with some satisfaction now the after dinner clean up was almost complete.

"Great," her father analyzed teasingly, gratefully taking a seat at the linen covered table. "So you did a Mac on it and met some rich doctor or investment banker,"

"Kind of," Veronica cringed, bracing herself for her father's reaction as she took a delicate sip from the cool beer. "I actually ran into Logan,"

Keith had never been entirely supportive of Veronica's relationship with Logan, though he hid it well, the undercurrents of tension only barely palpable on the rare occasions Logan and Keith had reason to meet. Veronica could understand why; Logan had been troubled and unsettled when they had first started dating and she knew her father had worried about her constantly until she had rebounded into the arms of Duncan Kane.

"Logan," Keith echoed dully, his voice disguising none of the unease he clearly felt at the notion of Veronica reigniting her relationship with her former lover. "What did he want?"

"Nothing," Veronica replied dismissively, wondering why the hell she had bothered bringing up Logan's name in the first place. "He just came to the party to wish Mac and Brian well,"

Wallace striding into the kitchen to help himself to the last slice of cheesecake, brought the conversation to an abrupt halt.

"How are things at the office, Mr. Mars?" he asked lightly, spooning a heaped spoon of dessert into his mouth, allowing Veronica to slink out of the room relieved.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for all the very encouraging words so far:) They are much appreciated!**

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"**It takes a minute to have a crush on someone, an hour to like someone and a day to love someone - but it takes a lifetime to forget someone." - Unknown**

The unrelenting glare of the sun spliced through a narrow gap in the curtains but Veronica hardly cared, rolling over contentedly beneath the cool of the linen sheets. Drifting back lazily to sleep, she tugged the sheet firmly under her chin, determined to make the most of the rare morning off work. There were probably more productive ways to spend the free time; her tiny apartment was screaming out for attention, dishes and glasses heaped forlornly in the sink. She hadn't done laundry in what felt like weeks, Veronica certain she was reduced to a single clean shirt, the rest of her clothes balled up miserably on the floor. Sleep, however, had to take priority, Veronica having been severely deprived of shut-eye in the days following the horrendous attacks on both the UCLA sorority girls and Helen Bloomberg, the prostitute found dead in a run down motel in Richmond.

Since the grisly discovery in The Lucky Motel, work had been miraculously quiet and Veronica was gratefully taking the opportunity to catch up with some long abandoned paperwork. The weather had grown gloriously warm and sunny and the guilty hint of a tan glowing on Veronica's skin, betrayed the fact she had spent the previous evening basking with Mac on the beach as opposed to being holed up in her windowless office, the sky usually darkened to a murky black by the time she managed to drag herself home.

Turning over in her bed, Veronica had just managed to arrange herself in a luxuriously comfortable position when the shrill ringtone from her cellphone startled her. _It better not be Burke, _she considered irritably, kicking out of her cosy nest of blankets and sheets and reaching warily for the cell.

A nervous shiver ran up Veronica's spine as her blue eyes sleepily made sense of the name illuminated on the display of her cell.

_Logan. What the hell does he want? _she wondered uncertainly before the events of the engagement party and the unexpected feel of his lips on hers came rushing to her mind.

It had felt amazing to be wrapped in his arms again, Veronica had to admit as her finger hovered uncertainly over the answer button.

_But he had hurt her and badly, _she deliberated unhappily as she recalled Logan's furious outbursts and the hellish day she had finally left, dragging a single suitcase out into the cold and miserable rain. The sudden memory of the spine-tinging sensation that had coursed through her veins as Logan had pressed his lips longingly against hers succeeded in making the final decision for her and swallowing nervously, Veronica impulsively answered the call.

"Thought you were never going to answer," Logan drawled lazily and Veronica could almost imagine the sexy smile on his face

"You woke me up," Veronica retorted icily, though a warmth surged through her at the sound of his familiar voice. Tucking a stray lock of golden hair behind her ear, Veronica settled herself comfortably against the thick stack of pillows, pulling the warmth of the blanket securely under her chin.

"And here's me thinking you never slept, or maybe that was just when you were with me," Logan added smugly, causing Veronica to roll her eyes in annoyance.

"You know, we could continue with your so-called witty banter all morning but in the interests of salvaging what remains of my precious morning in bed, I'm just going to come straight out with it and ask you what you want,"

"Come to dinner with me tonight, Veronica," Logan replied simply and suddenly all his bravado was gone and he sounded exactly like Veronica inwardly felt; vulnerable, insecure and scared. "Please," he added beseechingly, and Veronica was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion at the depth of feeling in his voice.

"Okay," Veronica replied guardedly, careful to disguise the delirious, giddy excitement she felt at the prospect of spending an evening with her ex-boyfriend. Logan Echolls had broken her heart once before and Veronica was determined not to allow him the same privilege again.

--

Bent over her desk in a display of absolute concentration, Veronica sifted through the tower of case files balanced precariously on her desk, sighing miserably as her gaze fell on that of the butchered Ms. Bloomberg, a photograph of her grisly remains pinned beside that of the murdered UCLA sorority sisters. There was something about the two crime scenes that niggled at Veronica; something that almost suffocated her when she forced herself to study the photographs.

The images were brutal; the three women reduced to a bloodied mess in the aftermath of their attack but it wasn't that; Veronica's role as FBI agent making her worryingly accustomed to gory scenes.

Having learned to follow her instincts, Veronica had pulled a whole stack of old case files from the dusty shelves of the store, determined to find some inkling of a pattern or clue that might direct the investigation in some helpful avenue. So far they had nothing; tests on the bracelet had yielded what Veronica had already suspected, that the bracelet found on Helen Bloomberg's body was identical to that found on Karen Jones. The results had utterly confounded the FBI team, making, as Marilyn Hauser had declared exasperatedly, absolutely no bloody sense.

Beside her, John Burke eagerly devoured the generous stack of turkey and salad sandwiches that lay spread out on a crumpled napkin. "Found anything?" he grunted in a disinterested tone, evidently sensing the cool blue of Veronica's eyes on him. Burke disliked anything coming between him and his lunch.

"I wish," Veronica replied with a frustrated sigh, pushing away the offending case file before listening to the insistent grumbling that emanated from her stomach. "I'm going to grab a sandwich from next door. See you in a minute and we might review some of the evidence that CSI have sent up."

The sky was a glorious blue as Veronica pushed in the door of the adjoining store, the tinkling of an overhead bell announcing her presence.

The antiquated store was seriously in need of some refurbishment, the dusty shelves sparsely stocked and the peeling walls calling out for a fresh lick of paint. The food though was good, Veronica venturing into the store daily to grab a hasty sandwich and coffee.

Selecting a cheese-and-pickle on rye, Veronica was just about to pay when she hesitated for a moment at the news stand. The coverage of the murders never failed to infuriate Veronica, with both the FBI and the LAPD being lambasted daily for their perceived shortcomings in solving the case. Scanning the front pages of the various publications, Veronica was relieved to see that a political scandal involving some senior cabinet member and his blonde piece on the side had succeeded at least temporarily, in diverting the attention from the violent string of murders. While photographs of the smiling Karen Jones and Amy Philips had been splashed across the front cover of every newspaper on the West Coast, the death of Helen Bloomberg had barely merited a mention, a bare skeleton of an article included in some of the local papers. The murder of a prostitute was obviously not as newsworthy as that of a college student, Veronica considered snidely when the shiny cover of a true crime magazine peeked out at her from behind a copy of the LA times.

Her curiosity piqued, Veronica reached for the magazine and flicking idly through the pages, when a photograph of two dark-haired girls lying sprawled out on a blood drenched bed caused her to start in surprise. The similarities between the scene and that of blood drenched sorority house in which she had found Amy and Karen were undeniable. Rummaging impatiently in her bag, Veronica withdrew some crumpled dollar bills from her purse before handing them over to the waiting shop assistant. The sandwich cradled in her arms and the magazine slotted carefully in her shoulder bag, Veronica stepped outside into the waiting sunshine.

--

Standing frozen in front of the mirror, Veronica was gripped with indecision as she considered what to wear for her date with Logan that night. Wear the blue halter neck dress and risk appearing overeager but then a simple jeans and shirt combination didn't seem quite right either. In the end, she decided on neither, plucking a dress of the most delicate fabric out of her wardrobe and holding it triumphantly against her bare skin. The pale-blue of the material flattered her lightly tanned skin and displayed her slender figure to it's best advantage.

Arranging her soft blonde hair into loose waves, Veronica applied a light sheen of gloss to her lips before pronouncing herself done.

"You look beautiful," Logan informed her shyly, when Veronica had nervously opened the front door to him, goose pimple rising on her skin at the heated look in his eyes.

The bunch of pale yellow roses he offered her tentatively was so unlike Logan, as was the gentlemanly like way he held open the door for her while she quickly arranged the flowers in water.

"Thanks, I guess," Veronica replied uncertainly, suddenly missing Logan's trademark cockiness. At least then, she knew how to deal with him, knew how to shoot back with similarly withering remarks but this chivalrous was new and Veronica wasn't at all sure that she liked it. _He's just trying to be nice, _Veronica reminded herself firmly, suppressing the almost irresistible desire to make a smart comment about this seemingly new and improved Logan Echolls.

"Where are you bringing me anyway, Echolls?" Veronica asked lightly as she draped a silvery wrap around her narrow shoulders.

"You'll see," he replied with an evasive smile, taking Veronica's hand playfully in his and leading her out the door.

The couple seated outside under the inky black of the sky, the restaurant was wonderfully intimate and afforded Logan and Veronica a much needed opportunity to talk. The breeze that drifted in lightly from the Pacific ocean succeeded in relieving the almost stifling temperatures and resting back in her chair, Veronica finally allowed herself to relax.

"More wine, Madam?" Logan asked gallantly, picking up the bottle of red and offering it to her with a mock flourish.

"I shouldn't," Veronica replied with a wry smile, the mere thought of arriving into work with a hangover more than she could bear. But the wine was making her feel gloriously lightheaded and relaxed and not giving herself a chance to reconsider, Veronica gratefully extended her glass for Logan to top up.

The evening had been perfect, Veronica had to agree with an inward smile as she took a delicate sip of wine. Logan had been a perfect gentleman, inquiring politely about her job and about her dad and Wallace and never once alluding to what might possibly happen once they left the restaurant and started on the lonely journey back to Veronica's apartment. Veronica on her part, listened attentively as Logan regaled her with admittedly hilarious tales of Dick and Casey's latest exploits and filled in her on the details of his new position as events manager with some hot LA nightclub.

The conversation was relaxed and easy and Veronica felt herself opening up to him; felt things between them drift slowly back to the way they were, before the fights and the drinking back when they were happy.

"I am sorry for what happened between us, you know," Logan informed her soberly, his brown eyes guilt stricken as they gazed into hers. "I was an absolute asshole to you. I would do anything to take it back, you know,"

"I know," Veronica replied with a small smile, forcing herself not to pull away when Logan took her hand in his. "But you weren't the only one to fuck up and we both know it. I was a terrible girlfriend," she admitted softly, laughing when Logan nodded vigorously in agreement.

"Hey, I wasn't that bad," Veronica retorted defensively, though she knew by the playful smile on Logan's face that he was only teasing her.

"God, I miss this, I miss you, Veronica," Logan declared so earnestly that Veronica wanted to cry. Being with him like this, made it so easy to imagine how they might work things out and give their relationship a second chance. But then Veronica remembers the fights and the sleepless nights and wonders if she's being foolish to even consider reigniting a relationship that had made her feel so incredibly unhappy and worthless by the end of it.

"I miss you too, so much," Veronica admitted softly, shivering in spite of herself as Logan traced a finger gently down her cheek. His lips found her then, his fingers entangled in the soft waves of her hair.

"Stay with me tonight, Veronica,'

Veronica's heart practically leapt out of her chest at his words but she maintained her composure just the same, raising her blue eyes tentatively to meet his.

"Okay," she found herself answering, a thrill of excitement coursing through her as Logan reached for her hand and led her out of the restaurant.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry for the delay in posting the chapter but pesky college assignments got in the way:( **

**I hope everyone enjoys!**

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_They didn't even make it as far as the bedroom._

Kicking the front door shut hastily behind them, Veronica gasped in shock as Logan pushed her up against the wall, his lips finding hers and kissing her deeply. Having been deprived of physical intimacy for so long, Veronica had almost become accustomed to the wet Saturday mornings stretched out on the bed alone, which had been once spent wrapped in Logan's arms, the patter of rain against the window providing the perfect excuse to spend the entire morning in bed._ Almost_.There were times, when tired and cold after a grueling day at work that Veronica had literally craved for Logan to join her in the shower and make love to her against the cool of the tiles, like he used to until every last shred of stress had slipped away. There were certain pieces of underwear and dresses that she still couldn't bring herself to wear; one green dress in particular that was tucked away in the deepest recesses of her wardrobe being the dress she wore when she finally made the decision to give herself to Logan.

Now, feeling Logan fumble with the halter neck tie of her dress before pulling the delicate silk away forcibly from her body, Veronica wondered how the hell she'd survived.

"God, Veronica, you're hot," Logan groaned appreciatively, seeing her standing completely unselfconsciously in her pale-pink lace bra and panties.

Not even bothering to reply, Veronica started unbuttoning Logan's shirt, her fingers clumsy and uncertain after the two glasses of wine. Ripping the shirt from his body, Veronica gasped in pleasure as Logan pressed his lips to hers, his fingers rough on her skin.

Afterwards, Veronica lay naked in Logan's arms, the pair sprawled out lazily on the sofa as they spooned vanilla ice-cream into one another's mouths. The television sounded quietly in the background but neither one were watching it; the pair simply happy to indulge in the pleasure of one another's company.

"We should do this more often," Logan murmured softly as he leaned in to kiss Veronica, his lips sweet with the taste of ice-cream.

"What? The sex or the ice-cream?" Veronica responded jokingly before being cut off by Logan pressing his lips against hers again, his fingertips resting softly against her cheek.

'Preferably both," Logan shot back with a sly grin, taking a heaped spoon of ice-cream from the now sticky container and slicking it onto her bare skin.

"What the hell, Logan?" Veronica demanded in shock but she had to smile as Logan bent over and gently licked the sticky mess before leaning in and pressing his lips to her softly.

They made love slowly this time, wrapped up in each other's arms. The sex demonstrated none of the desperation and ferocity of their encounter at the wall but in a way it was nicer, more sincere and when Veronica finally managed to drift off to sleep, there was a smile on her face.

* * *

The day was glorious, the sky a swirling mesh of blue and white and the sun seared down unrelentingly from the sky, sending temperatures rocketing into the early thirties. Beside her, Burke was sweating profusely, droplets of moisture gleaming on his brow as they negotiated the uneven path through the parkland. Roots of trees lay twisted across the narrow paths and the terrain was scraggy, loose rocks and stones underfoot making the two-mile trek more arduous than they'd expected.

"God, it's hot," Burke grumbled beside her, taking Veronica's arm and steadying her as she nearly slipped on some loose gravel. "Why can't these killers find somewhere more convenient to dump the bodies?"

"Burke," Veronica sounded warningly but inwardly she understood his irritation. At seven o' clock in the morning, Veronica had been roused from a most pleasant sleep, curled up luxuriously in the warmth of Logan's arms to take a call from Marilyn Hauser. Two more bodies had been found. A couple taking advantage of the unseasonably warm weather had made the discovery, their voices frantic and desperate as they had made the call to 911. Detectives had confirmed the presence of the ominous bracelet left on the bloodied wrist of the female victim and the FBI had been immediately alerted to the grisly find.

Lying sprawled out on a worn plaid blanket, the victims' blood made a shocking display against the cream-and-grey wool. They had been stabbed repeatedly, their mutilated bodies depicting a harrowing image of the unimaginable horror the two victims had been subjected to. A wicker basket lay turned over on it's side, the contents strewn wildly all over the grass and the bottle of wine that would have been the perfect accompaniment to their obviously planned romantic picnic, was smashed into jagged pieces, the red wine blending seamlessly in with the glistening pools of blood.

"Do we have an ID on the victims?" Veronica demanded briskly as she gazed expectantly at the balding detective who was hovering uncertainly by the crime scene.

"We do," he confirmed with a rueful sigh, his eyes straying momentarily to the bloodied remains of the victims. "Their driving licenses were in their wallets. The male victim's name is Robert Jacobs and he's a student at a local high school and the female victim, Eleanor Curtin, is his girlfriend. Their parents put in a call to the police last night, when the teens failed to show up after going out on a date together."

"God, that's tough," Veronica murmured softly, kneeling down beside the bodies and running her eyes over the blood drenched chaos that was in front of her.

Eleanor was clad in sunny yellow, the dress that had once been so obviously pretty was now torn and muddied, the material soaked through with blood. A glimmer of gold glinted from the girl's limp wrist and seeing the familiar bracelet, Veronica felt a strange sense of unease surge through her. It was the same bracelet and the same killer and yet there was no consistency in victimology or modus operandi.

"This is messed-up," Burke grunted, joining Veronica from his previous perch over by the CSI unit, where he'd been engaged in animated discussions with the lead technician of the operation. "The girl was stabbed over a hundred times. CSI say that they've never seen anything like it,"

There was no hesitation on behalf of the killer when he set out to butcher the young couple. The wounds were clean and deep and not marred by any hesitation marks.

"What the hell is he doing?" Veronica murmured in a soft voice as though to herself, her scalp starting to prickle uncomfortably under the scorching early morning heat.

"He's fucking with us, that's what he's doing," Burke shot back with an exasperated sigh and staring at the mangled mess of flesh in front of her, Veronica could only agree.

* * *

"Are we a couple now or what?" Logan demanded awkwardly, his cheeks reddening as he forced his brown eyes to meet Veronica's. Logan's car crawling through the infamous LA traffic, the pair were on their way to meet Mac and Brian for dinner, Mac having guilted Veronica into agreeing to the dinner date after her unceremonious departure from the engagement party.

"What would make you think that?" Veronica shot back in amusement, hastily dusting in a light layer of blusher over her cheeks, the journey to the restaurant being the only chance she had to make herself presentable after the gruesome day's work.

"Well, we have sex and we go on dates, so I don't know, it sounds pretty couply to me," he shrugged, before honking irritably at a guy who had just pulled into the lane in front of him.

"I guess you're right," Veronica agreed, dabbing a little perfume near her wrist and there was no further mention of the conversation after that.

The White Dog was a lively, rowdy sort of bar, where one was never quite sure if a brawl or an impromptu music session would start at any given moment. Frothy headed pints of beer and amber colored whiskeys were passed over the counter with startling frequency but the bar didn't serve wine and Veronica was certain that the mere mention of the word cocktail would be met with uproarious laughter. Not that that bothered Veronica; a small glass of beer would comprise her entire night's drinking as she had an early start in the morning and reviewing the bloodied crime scene photographs of the two teens would require an exceptionally strong stomach.

Mac began the introductions, placing a hand tenderly at the small of her fiancee's back as she directed his attention towards Veronica. "This is Veronica, the kick-ass FBI agent I told you about. Don't mess with her," she warned Brian with a teasing glint in her eye. "She may be blonde and tiny but she's lethal with a gun,"

"Nice to meet you, Brian," Veronica smiled back brightly, taking his outstretched hand and giving it a hearty shake. "And don't worry. I'm not that dangerous, really. Unless you're a murderer or you steal money from the government and then I really can be a pain in the ass,"

"Or you wake her up early," Logan cut in, the remark earning him a sharp elbow into the ribs from Veronica.

"And this is Logan," Mac stated with a strained smile, introducing the two men to one another. She didn't bother delving into the complicated details of Veronica and Logan's past relationship. She didn't need to. The tension in the air between Logan and Mac was almost palatable the second they stepped into the tiny bar.

Brian was a quiet, courteous guy, Veronica quickly discovered as the foursome chatted comfortably over their meal of thick steaks and crusty bread. His dedication to his patients was obvious as was his devotion to Mac. Every word she uttered was met by a look of utter reverence from Brian, his hand always finding an excuse to touch her, to run his hand over her head to smooth an errant hair or to dust away an imaginary crumb from her face.

"How are the wedding plans going?" Veronica asked, making the obligatory wedding enquiry which caused Mac to sigh dramatically in response.

"Don't even ask," she moaned, reaching for her beer and taking a long drink.

"It's my mother," Brian added in explanation and Mac could only shake her head wearily in agreement. "She's driving us mad,"

"She wants a pair of doves for the ceremony and an ice sculpture of the pair of us to be displayed at the reception,"

"No fucking way," Veronica shot back, erupting into laughter before shooting her friend an apologetic grin. "I'm sorry, Mac but that ice sculpture sounds crazy and what's the deal with the birds?"

"My mom saw it on some television show and thought it would be a great idea," Brian responded with a long-suffering sigh.

"She thought wrong," Mac grumbled, though there was the hint of a smile on her face as she gestured to the bartender to bring her another pint.

There was a slight chill in the air as Veronica pushed her way through the double doors of the bar and out into the surrounding blackness of outside. The moon was but a bare sliver of light in the sky and the twinkle of the stars was dulled by the overpowering city lights. Shivering slightly, Veronica was caught off-guard by a chivalrous Logan, who hastily took off his jacket and draped it lightly over her shoulders.

"When did you turn into such a nice guy?" Veronica teased lightly, her hand enclosed tightly in his as they wandered towards his car.

"I'm always a nice guy when I know that there's going to be some hot sex in store for me," he shot back slyly, causing Veronica to glare daggers at him in response.

"You're very presumptuous, Mr. Echolls," Veronica smiled. "Maybe I just want to go home and catch an early night. You do know, I have a very busy day of work ahead of me tomorrow,"

"All I know, is that I can't wait to get you into bed,"

"I suppose that early night can wait," Veronica allowed with a teasing grin and breaking into a smile as Logan took her in his arms and kissed her deeply.

* * *

Smothering a yawn in the palm of her hand, Veronica struggled to keep her eyes open as she ambled wearily over to her desk. Veronica had reacquainted herself intimately with the inside of Logan's apartment, Logan having made love to her in practically every room in the place. She managed to snatch about an hours sleep at most and the effects were evident; her eyes swollen and bloodshot and her clothes, the crumpled offerings from the day before.

The office was quietly bustling, FBI agents starting to slowly trickle into the building and begin the days proceedings. Burke was at his desk, pouring over the results of Eleanor Curtin's autopsy, his obligatory morning coffee in his hand.

"Any developments?" Veronica asked, the question met with a frustrated sigh and a dismal shake of his head.

"The guy's a bloody enigma," he relayed back disbelievingly. "Where's the pattern? It just doesn't make sense. He's killing women one minute, a man the next. He throttling women and then he's stabbing them to death. Very few UNSUBS feel confident utilizing such an array of weapons and yet he's throwing it in our faces, taunting us as though he's daring us to try and stop him."

"The pattern is that he leaves the gold bracelet," Veronica sighed, though that was Burke's very point. Without the bracelet to link the cases, the LAPD would have never thought to connect the murders together.

"What's up with you anyway, Mars?" he demanded abruptly, gazing quizzically at the young agent. "You look like crap,"

"Thanks, Burke," Veronica shot back in annoyance, though she knew there was a grain of truth to his words. "I met up with some friends and had a kind of a late one, if you know what I mean,"

"Those were the days," Burke sighed wistfully, shaking his head as he took a grateful sip from his steaming coffee. "I'm going to give you some advice Veronica." he sounded, the words prompting the blonde agent to look at him in surprise. "Don't ever get married. And if you do, don't ever have children."

"Advice taken," Veronica smiled, about to follow Burke's lead and pour herself some much needed coffee, when the sight of Marilyn Hauser blustering out of her office caused her to start in surprise.

"It's him," she gasped in a shocked tone that was so unlike the stalwart unit chief that Veronica had come to know.

A card was grasped in her hand, the bold, glossy cover reminiscent of the birthday cards she used to receive when she was a child.

"Good luck," Burke read from it's cover, open curiosity on his face as he accepted the card from Chief Hauser's outstretched hand. "What the hell is this?"

"It's a message from the killer," Marilyn revealed straight faced, any remnant of Veronica's earlier exhaustion evaporating in the face of the undeniably exciting development. "He's wishing us good luck because he says we'll need it, if we want to have any chance of stopping him."


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey guys:) So sorry for the delay with posting this chapter but I was hit with a serious case of writer's block when it came to this story. Anyway, I am back in the swing of things now and am hoping to have the next chapter up a lot quicker!**

******I had to do a bit of editing with this chapter to bring it in line with the rating guidelines. Therefore a fairly graphic sex scene had to be deleted. If any readers are interested (and are of a legal age!) in accessing the unedited chapter, pm me for the link. **

******Enjoy!**

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Their desks scattered with crumpled food wrappers and abandoned cups of coffee, Veronica and Burke sat hunched uncomfortably over the bloodied series of photographs laid out carefully in front them. The sunlight that had been streaming in unrelentingly through the window was now fading rapidly, reminding Veronica that she desperately needed to go home and grab a few hours sleep. She was exhausted and other than the one time Veronica had made the short journey across the street to purchase some much-needed sandwiches and chips, the pair hadn't taken a break all day. It was frustrating, grueling work but it would be worth it, if they finally caught a break in the case.

Reaching for the Philips' file, Veronica sifted through the photographs of the crime scene, until she reached one particularly horrific image. Amy Philips was lying sprawled in a bloody mess on the once-white linen, her eyes staring lifelessly at the red splattered ceiling.

"Burke, take a look at this,"

Smothering a yawn in the back of his hand, Burke took the photograph in his hands before gazing quizzically at Veronica. In the past few days, the FBI agent had examined every photograph from the sorority house in minute detail and was more familiar with the horrendous acts of violence that transpired in that bedroom than anybody.

"Now take a look at this," Veronica instructed him, sliding a photograph of a much older crime scene across the table.

It was another blood splattered bedroom, with another twin set of murder victims, their catalogue of injuries unsettlingly similar.

"No bloody way," Burke murmured almost to himself as the implication of what the photograph meant started to sink in. "That's one of Bundy's crime scenes, isn't it?"

"It is," Veronica stated grimly, settling back in her chair. "In Tallahassee, Florida, 1978, two students were bludgeoned to death in their sorority house and get this, Bundy used a hammer,"

"Just like that sick fuck who murdered Amy Philips and Karen Jones," Burke commented with a knowing shake of his head.

"Exactly," Veronica replied, shuffling distractedly through the files that were heaped untidily on her desk. "I was reading this crappy true crime magazine when I saw the article about Bundy and it got me thinking,"

Burke couldn't resist a smirk spreading across his face. "You read true crime magazines,"

"Don't judge me," Veronica sighed jokingly, glaring at Burke through carefully narrowed eyes. "But anyway, I've reviewed a bunch of old case files and here's the thing, it seems there's more than a couple of connections between this recent spate of murders and some of the most infamous murder cases in history. For example, this," she continued, reaching for a heavily packed file and pushing it under Burke's nose. "During the summer of sixty-nine, Zodiac attacked a young couple up in Vallejo and the details of the murder scene are scarily reminiscent of what happened to those poor high school kids found yesterday,"

Plucking a yellowed newspaper clipping from the heaving file, Burke's eyes skimmed curiously through the lengthy article.

"They were stabbed repeatedly with a hunting knife," he murmured thoughtfully, his gaze lingering for a second on the picture of the once beautiful victim accompanying the article.

"And they were attacked on a stretch of isolated parkland," Veronica filled in for him, excitement coloring her voice as she directed Burke's attention to some horrific photographs of the murder scene. "The male vicim was apparently incredibly lucky to have survived the attack,"

"And Helen Bloomberg?" Burke interjected curiously, reaching for one of the crime scene photographs strewn in Veronica's desk and gazing at it absently. "Have you got that figured out too?"

"Helen Bloomberg worked as a prostitute, right?"

"Right," Burke replied uncertainly, the expression on his face vaguely confused.

"And she was gutted with a knife,"

"Where's this going, Veronica?" Burke demanded impatiently, turning around in his seat to gaze frankly at his partner.

"Look, maybe I'm reaching here a little bit," Veronica began, pushing a strand of escaped blonde hair behind her ear. "But Jack the Ripper murdered prostitutes and slashes to the abdomen were a feature of his MO,"

"So what? You think we have a copycat killer on our hands?"

Burke who had initially been so wholly dismissive was starting to slowly warm to the idea. Veronica could see it and though it was just a theory, and the evidence (if she could even call it that) completely inconclusive, it was still the first sense, either of them had, that the case was going anywhere.

"Possibly," Veronica allowed, shrugging lightly. Past experience had taught Veronica that it was unwise to place too much credence in a single theory. "We'll present the evidence to Marilyn in the morning and see what she thinks,"

"I'm going to be killed," Burke muttered under his breath as he glanced worriedly at the clock. "Cathy's invited her parents over for dinner and I'm already almost an hour late."

As though on cue, Burke's cell rang prompting a displeased grunt from when he saw his wife's name highlighted on the screen.

Burke was irritated with Cathy, Veronica could hear it in his voice but sneaking a glance at the clock herself, Veronica could understand the woman's frustration. The dinner had been arranged for eight and though it was now well past the time, Burke hadn't made any attempt to leave.

"This isn't going to be pretty," he groaned as he slid his cell open and spoke in hushed, placating tones to his wife before hanging up and gazing regretfully at Veronica. "I've got to go unless I want to find myself sleeping in the backyard with the dog tonight,

Veronica herself had made vague plans to meet Logan for dinner but no time had been arranged and anyway, by the teasing look on Logan's face when he had suggested the date, dinner had been the last thing on his mind.

"Yeah, I suppose, I'd better go too. Long day tomorrow and all that. Do you want to meet here early in the morning and go over a few things before we bring this to Marilyn?"

"Yeah, I'll see you at seven," Burke grunted, slipping his cell phone into his pocket and heading out the door.

It was a serious effort for Veronica to keep her eyes open as she finally pushed her way wearily through the doors of the FBI building half an hour later. The case was proving to be exhausting and Veronica was already eagerly anticipating an entirely uninterrupted night's sleep. (Unless the interruption happened to be Logan Echolls waking her up some for some very hot sex.)

"Hot and equipped with a gun. Whoever would have thought that my X-Files fantasies about getting hot with a special agent would actually come true?"

Seeing Logan leaning casually against the door of his beloved sports car, Veronica had to smile.

"Once those fantasies include a sleeping special agent and a bowl of ice cream, we're good. Otherwise, I'll have to recommend you break out those X-Files DVDs. I haven't slept since I saw you last and I'm exhausted,"

Giving Veronica a sly wink, he slid into the driver seat of his car and threw open the door for her. "What would you say, if I told you I was going to run a bath for you, while I cook dinner?"

"I would probably ask you to join me," Veronica laughed, butterflies fluttering wildly in her stomach as Logan leaned in and brought his lips softly to hers.

"That's what I hoped you'd say," Logan murmured softly, Veronica's eyes closing in response as he kissed her deeply.

The bathroom in Veronica's apartment was a hideous mixture of coral plastic and cool chipped tiles but that hardly mattered as the pair slipped with flushed faces into the room. Bending over to turn on the tap, Veronica's breath caught in her throat as she felt Logan's hand move beneath her shirt, his fingers cool on her skin. Pulling her up to meet him, Logan started to unbutton Veronica's crisp, white shirt with an impatience that surprised her.

"Someone's eager," she commented lightly, her eyes closing in contentment as Logan brushed his lips in answer against her neck.

Afterwards lying sprawled on the cool sheets in her room, Veronica and Logan lay in each other's arms kissing softly. The room was still and dark and through the open curtains, Veronica could see the stars twinkling brightly in the vast expanse of black.

"Things are different this time, Veronica," Logan murmured softly, his voice breaking the silence.

Things were different, Veronica knew but by the time she found the words to formulate a response, Logan had already fallen fast asleep.

* * *

"You are such a sweetheart to take me to breakfast," Veronica smiled happily as she took a grateful sip from her first coffee of the day.

The diner was pleasantly busy, sleepy-eyed people clamoring around the counter, desperate to buy their morning coffee. Waitresses carrying trays of steaming food, skillfully dodged the pair of blonde-haired children running wild amongst the tables and the air was fragrant with the smell of gently roasting coffee.

"Well, it's not like I had a lot of choice, Veronica," Logan shot back with a teasing grin as he speared a piece of bacon on Veronica's face and popped into his mouth. "Your kitchen didn't offer a whole lot of culinary options besides chips and some kind of unidentifiable meat,"

"Yeah, I think that was chicken?" Veronica offered helpfully before swatting Logan playfully on the arm as he plucked the last piece of toast off her plate. "Logan," she exclaimed, her attempts at reclaiming back her piece of toast completely in vain as he dangled it like a prize high above her head.

"Well, if my girlfriend was actually doing her job and feeding her man, he might not need to be stealing food off her plate," Logan retorted playfully, his hand creeping over to rest on Veronica's thigh.

"I think what you're talking about is a maid, Logan, you know, someone you pay to cook and clean for you," Veronica joked, spooning some scrambled egg off Logan's plate in retaliation. "Maybe you ought to get me one of those and then you won't ever have to complain about the fridge being empty again,"

"How about I just pay you in the currency of love," Logan suggested with a sly smile, reaching over and kissing her softly on the lips. "A cooked dinner equals three kisses. Vacuuming might even earn you a hug,"

"And if I cleaned the bathroom?" Veronica interjected playfully, a smile threatening to break across her face.

"Well, then I would just have to pick you up in my arms, throw you on the bed and make love to you for hours,"

"God, you're such a romantic, Logan," Veronica enthused before Logan slung an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close for a kiss.

"You don't even know," he whispered softly, his fingers soft on her cheek as their lips moved slowly together.

"Veronica, is that you?"

Hearing the familiar voice, Veronica pulled out of Logan's grasp and looked sheepishly up to see Alicia Fennel staring at her.

"Hello, Alicia," Veronica mumbled red-faced, inwardly praying that her father wasn't lurking somewhere in the vicinity. That was one conversation she could definitely do without right now.

"You're father is ordering us breakfast, so he'll be down in a minute. He has some business in the city today and I decided to join him and do some shopping," she informed Veronica with a smile before directing her attention towards Logan. "How are you, Logan? We haven't seen you in a while,"

Alicia took a seat beside Veronica and busied herself with the cutlery and napkins and the whole scene was so horrendously uncomfortable that Veronica wanted to make an immediate dash for the front door. Logan was evidently just as nervous at the prospect of meeting Keith Mars as he drank his long-gone-cold mug of coffee in one swift gulp.

The smile that had been on Keith's face vanished the second he saw Logan Echolls sitting beside his daughter.

"Logan," he greeted him with a stiff nod before flashing a smile at his daughter. "How are things holding up with you, Honey?"

"Great, Dad," Veronica smiled, her mind already turning over a million different reasons as to why she and Logan had to immediately leave. "But we actually were just about to go. The FBI aren't paying me the big bucks to sit around drinking coffee, you know and Logan has to go to work,"

"Whatever you say, Veronica," her father sighed, spreading a thin layer of butter onto his bagel as Veronica slung her purse onto her shoulder. "I'm cooking my secret recipe lasagne tonight if you want to call over. It feels like ages since we had a proper chat,"

"Sounds good, Dad," Veronica smiled, leaning over to kiss her father on the cheek. "I'll call you later, okay?"

Outside, the sky was so blue, that Veronica was temporarily blinded as she followed Logan out of the diner. Slipping her sunglasses onto her face, Veronica slipped her hand supportively into Logan's.

"Your dad's not my number one fan, at the moment," Logan murmured ruefully as he slid his car key into the lock.

"He'll get over it," Veronica shrugged, though she did flash a small smile of support at her boyfriend."Look, Logan, I've got to go. Duty calls. I might see you later, okay?"

"Might see me later," Logan complained, pulling her against his chest and bringing her lips to meet hers. "How about you will definitely see me later. I might even have a surprise for you,"

"Well, if you put it like that," Veronica smiled, about to melt into Logan's arms for one last kiss when the abrupt ring of her cellphone startled her. "Shit, it's Burke. I have to take this," she mumbled apologetically, sliding her cell phone open.

"Burke, what's up?" she greeted her partner, before pressing a hasty kiss to Logan's cheek and racing to her car.

Her hair carefully arranged in a neat chignon and a steaming cup of coffee clutched in her hand, Veronica pushed her way purposefully into the cramped interview room. Stepping into her grey trouser suit that morning, Veronica had inexplicably changed from the love struck girl who had spent the latter part of the night making love to her boyfriend to Special Agent Mars, the hard nosed FBI agent who would stop at nothing to bring the so-called Teen Slasher Killer to justice.

"Hello, Mrs. Anderson, I'm Agent Mars," Veronica greeted the woman warmly, extending a hand to her in welcome. "I believe you have some information for us regarding the murder of Ms. Bloomberg,"

"Call me Laurie, please" she smiled, her hands twisting uncomfortably on her lap. "I was so sad to hear about the death of that poor woman. The things that go on in on our world today, you know, it makes you wonder,"

"It certainly does," Veronica agreed grimly, though she pressed on, determined not to let the woman ramble too much. It would be hard facts and evidence that would inevitably bring the sonofabitch in and those were the only things Veronica was interested in. "Mrs. Anderson, Laurie," Veronica quickly corrected herself before taking a seat across from the older woman. "What can you tell me about the night Helen Bloomberg disappeared?"

"I was out visiting a friend, up off French Church Street, when I passed Ms. Bloomberg walking with a man. I never forget a face, you know?" the woman commented to Veronica, folding her arms staunchly in front of her chest.

"And you're sure it was this woman you saw?" Veronica reiterated, sliding the photograph of the victim across the table to Mrs. Anderson. The prospect of having a potential witness was exciting but Veronica had to be definite that Laurie Anderson had seen Helen Bloomberg and not just another blonde who was enjoying a Sunday night stroll through the neighborhood. "Have a good look at the photograph now and be satisfied that it was definitely Ms. Bloomberg you saw."

Pushing her glasses up onto the bridge of her nose, the older woman picked up the photograph delicately with her fingers and again scrutinized the image. "No, it's definitely her. I have a very good head for faces. My friends comment on it all the time. I see a face once and I never forget it. It's not something everyone can claim to be able to do, you know?"

The woman was starting to stray off the point again and Veronica cleared her throat, needing her to stay focused and alert.

"You say there was a man with Ms. Bloomberg," Veronica commented, leaning back in her seat and gazing at her frankly. "Do you think you could provide me with a description of his appearance?"

"Of course," Mrs Anderson exclaimed, smoothing a hand over her immaculate hair. "Like I already said, I'm excellent with faces. In fact, if I had my time over, I would have loved to have been working with the FBI, just like you,"

Veronica resisted the urge to roll her eyes at that and instead smiled and urged the woman on.

"What did this man look like, Mrs. Anderson and please try to be as detailed as possible,"

"Of course, Agent Mars," the lady beamed, settling back in her chair with a pensive expression on her face. "The man I saw was white. About thirtyish, I would say. He had boyish good looks, lovely blue eyes. In fact, he reminded me a lot of my son. That's what caused me to pay attention to them in the first place,"

"And his hair color?" Veronica demanded sedately but inwardly her entire being was tingling with excitement. They had been waiting for days now for a break and this could be it.

"He had short dark hair and was very well dressed. To be honest, I was surprised to think he could be mixed up in all this. Didn't seem the sort, you know?"

They never do, Veronica sighed inwardly.

"Thank you do much for your time, Mrs. Anderson. You've been more than helpful. Another federal agent is going to join you in a minute, to compile a facial composite of the man you saw. That's just a sketch of the man based on your description," Veronica quickly explained, seeing the confusion flash across the woman's face.

Gracefully standing up, Veronica was about to open the door, when the sound of Laurie Anderson's voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Sorry to delay you, Agent Mars but I've just thought of something else that might be helpful,"

Turning around, Veronica gazed at the older curiously, eager to hear what she had to say.

"You know, there's a man living three doors down from me. His name is John Davis. He's a bit of a recluse, God love him," she added as an aside, pausing to take a drink from her water. "The poor man was a victim of a break-in a few years ago and has been extremely security conscious ever since. He even installed one of those camera things,"

"You mean CCTV?" Veronica interjected, her mind already running over the possibilities of what this information could potentially mean to the case.

"Yes, that's the thing. You know, it's difficult keeping up with all the technology these days. There's always something new. My son is trying to make me use a cell phone but I tell him that I'm quite happy with what I have. These newfangled inventions only cause confusion, if you know what I mean,"

"Yes, Mrs. Anderson, I know exactly what you mean," Veronica murmured appeasingly, though inwardly she was praying that Burke would burst into the room with news of some break in the case and she could escape. The way Laurie Anderson was acting, Veronica was certain that the woman would break out the family photographs soon and she'd be subjected to an evening of the Anderson family history.

"Mrs. Anderson, I don't mean to be rude but I am actually due at a meeting right about now," Veronica cut in abruptly, the second she saw the woman reach ominously into her handbag. "Agent Grace will be in a minute to begin the facial composite,"

Pulling the door gratefully shut behind her, Veronica's eyes were alight the second she saw Burke stroll casually along the corridor, a steaming coffee in his hand. "Hey, Burke, you were meant to be in interviewing that witness with me this morning. What gives? Too busy ordering coffee or something?"

"Sorry, Mars but that woman looks too much like my mother-in-law for comfort," he shrugged with a careless grin, shouldering the door of the office open. "I just spent all of last night with the woman and I needed a break," Burke offered helplessly, trying to appease Veronica by handing her his coffee.

"You're an asshole, Burke," Veronica shot back accusingly, though she accepted the cup of coffee all the same. "And as it happens, you missed out big time because Laurie Anderson just provided me with some sweet information and a description of our guy. She's in with Agent Grace right now, helping him with the facial composite,"

"You're not serious?" Burke demanded, spluttering with indignation that he had allowed himself miss such a scoop.

"I wouldn't lie," Veronica beamed with acid brightness, draining the end of her coffee, and placing the cup on her desk. "Now come on. Marilyn is waiting to speak to us, unless you plan in blowing her off too,"

"Sheesh, Veronica, do you think I have a death wish or something?" Burke mumbled under his breath, before grabbing his briefcase and following her out of the door.


	8. Chapter 8

**I just want to say thank you so much for all the lovely reviews I received for the last chapter:) **

**Enjoy!**

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Sitting in the comforting familiarity of her father's kitchen, Veronica dug a fork happily into her lasagna. Heaped with melted cheese and Keith's signature addition of dollops of sour cream, the dish would be a dieter's worse nightmare. Veronica, however wasn't worried. Long days and late nights, coupled with a strenuous workout most days in the gym, ensured that her slim figure never gained so much as a single pound.

"I was surprised to see you the other morning," Keith commented pointedly and alarm bells started sounding in Veronica's head.

This had been a trap. A typical Keith Mars trap, sweetened by the promise of a lasagna dinner.

_Veronica should have known. The clues were all there._

The fact that Alicia just_ happened_ to have a dinner date with a friend that night and the conspicuous absence of Darrell sprawled out in front of the television all pointed to one thing. Keith Mars was going to give her the talk. The Logan Echolls talk that is. Veronica had been treated to her father's cautionary words a number of times before and she would be damned if she was going to sit through them again.

"Dad, just don't even start," Veronica sighed resignedly, taking a weary bite from her steaming food. "I've had a long, crappy day at work and I really don't need this right now,"

Catching his daughter's gaze, Keith stared at her in amusement. "Start what, Honey?" he asked innocently, reaching out and breaking off some of the crusty garlic bread in his hand. "I didn't do anything other than make some, nice fatherly conversation. No need to be so touchy."

The meal resumed then in silence, Veronica looking up occasionally to shoot a suspicious look at her father, before returning her attention to the admittedly delicious meal.

"How's the case progressing?" Keith finally asked, his curiosity forcing him to finally break the silence. "Any more leads?"

Taking a sip from her small glass of wine, Veronica's blue eyes looked up to meet her father's expectant gaze.

"There might be," she replied evasively, a hint of a smile crossing her pretty face. "But you know, I'm not at liberty to tell you anything,"

"There's been some murmurings around town, that the murders of those two high school kids up at the state park are connected to the murder of the sorority girls at UCLA,"

Keith sat back in his chair and took a drink from his glass of red wine as he waited for Veronica to answer.

"You know what they say, Dad, no smoke without fire," Veronica replied, aiming a meaningful glance at her father before laying down her fork, defeated. Keith Mars always was over generous with his portion sizes.

"That's all you're going to eat?"

Keith sounded disappointed, seeing Veronica push her plate away.

"I guess, I wasn't as hungry as I thought," Veronica replied with a shrug, the headache that had been throbbing lightly in her head all day, now starting to pound violently.

I shouldn't have drank that red wine_,_ she cursed herself inwardly, already anticipating climbing into bed and passing out cold until the first glow of orange shining through the curtains would force her into the shower to begin yet another day.

"I've got some ice-cream, V," her dad offered temptingly and Veronica had to smile. Headache or no headache, her father knew she could never resist the lure of rocky road ice-cream smothered in chocolate sauce.

Veronica was about to dig her spoon into the ice-cream when her father cleared her throat meaningfully.

"Veronica, I know you don't want to hear this but I want you to be very careful when it comes to Logan,"

"Dad, just stop," Veronica cut in with a angry sigh, the headache threatening to reach explosive proportions. "I know you don't trust Logan's motives but he's changed, I swear,"

"People don't change just like that, Veronica," Keith replied with a helpless shrug. "I just don't want you to get hurt,"

"I won't," Veronica retorted, her jaw clenched tightly in anger.

Things hadn't ended well after that. An exchange of angry, heated words had resulted in Veronica storming out of her father's house, in a display that hadn't been matched since she had been four and embroiled in a temper tantrum over a missing doll.

The surrounding darkness was almost suffocating as Veronica negotiated the journey back to her apartment, her body rigid with anger when she recalled the conversation with her father. _Well, to hell with Logan, anyway,_ she cursed him angrily, knowing a little bit that her father was right and hating him for it. Cushioned by the newness of her relationship with Logan, it had been easy to forget all the sleepless nights and screaming matches that had forced her to walk out in the first place.

The headache pounding unmercifully behind her eyes, Veronica was about to turn into her apartment building when the low buzz of her cell phone startled her.

_Logan_, she realized dully, seeing his name lit up on the display. She couldn't deal with him right now.

Her finger hovering over the button, Veronica deliberated for a moment before tossing the phone dejectedly away.

Pushing her way wearily into her apartment, Veronica tossed her shoulder bag onto the floor before poking her head tentatively into the cramped kitchen. Distracted by work and her very pleasurable nocturnal activities with Logan, Veronica had neglected her apartment dreadfully and it showed. Grease streaked dishes lay stacked in the sink and a bottle of spoiled milk still sat in the fridge. Reaching for the carton of milk, Veronica wrinkled her nose in disgust as she emptied the curdled mess down the sink.

_I really have to move out of here__, _Veronica concluded despairingly, wiping a cloth briskly over the cheap, stained countertops. The tired, faded apartment had served it's purpose but Veronica was quickly growing weary of the cramped living space and the unpredictable hot water situation.

Reaching for the bag of trash, Veronica held it gingerly away from her before heading for the front door. The garbage run was a chore Veronica never particularly relished; the dim lighting and the uneven steps making the journey perilous. She had made several attempts to approach Mr. Daniels, the building supervisor with her concerns but they had simply been shrugged off, the man muttering non-committedly that he'd deal with it.

Of corse, he never did and now navigating the poorly lit staircase, Veronica shivered despite herself, her mind wandering unpleasantly to the grisly remains of Helen Bloomberg's body.

_Get a grip, Veronica,_ she instructed herself, pushing open the door and walking out into the bitter night air.

The night was inky black, the moon a mere sliver in the sky and the stars obliterated by LA's notorious light pollution. The darkness was unnerving and throwing open the lid of the dumpster, Veronica was about to toss the garbage bag hastily inside before a soft rustling sound caused her to stop in her tracks.

_Probably just that damn cat_, Veronica reassured herself uncertainly, having been startled by Mrs. Jenkins black cat running through her feet more than once before.

Throwing the bag into the dumpster, Veronica was about to head back inside, when the sound of a muffled cough had her reaching instinctively for her gun.

_What the hell was that?_ she wondered nervously, her blue eyes scanning the darkness.

Mr. Daniels had long gone home, she knew and Veronica couldn't imagine any reason as to why another resident of the apartment building would be lurking in the shadows.

"Hello," she called out nervously, edging towards the welcoming glow of light that spilled out from the open back door. Despite the gun that was clutched tightly in her hand, Veronica couldn't deny that she felt incredibly vulnerable knowing that there was someone watching her in the darkness.

Breaking into a run, Veronica didn't stop until she was safely inside her apartment, the door bolted securely behind her.

She slept with her gun on her bedside locker that night.

* * *

Number Eight, St. George's Place was a small, shabby bungalow, the white paint peeling away and revealing the gaudy pink of a previous owner underneath. The garden was vast and overgrown, brambles and weeds snaking through the high iron railings. A Do Not Enter sign hanging from the gate made the owner's wishes very clear while the angry snarl of a ferocious looking German Shepard ensured that those wishes were obeyed.

"What the hell?" Burke grumbled from beside her, the dog pacing threateningly from inside the gate. "Marilyn must think we are insane if she expects us to question Davis with that mutt in the way. He looks like he's ready to tear us apart limb by limb,"

"I'll call Marilyn," Veronica agreed, shooting a nervous look at the dog. Backup, even in his most threatening displays had nothing on this dog. His teeth bared, he looked ready for an early lunch and was eyeing Veronica with definite intent.

Pulling her cellphone out of her pocket, Veronica was about to dial Marilyn's number when the front door was pushed open and an elderly man stepped out. His hair an untidy shock of white and his bones protruding from his skin, John Davis was evidently not in the habit of taking care of himself and Veronica shuddered to imagine the inside of the cramped bungalow.

"You those FBI agents?" he demanded suspiciously, his steel colored eyes glaring at them.

"Agent Mars and Agent Burke," Veronica introduced herself promptly, the pair pulling out their ID badges and holding them up for the man to inspect. "We just want to ask you a few questions pertaining to the murder of Helen Bloomberg over at The Lucky Motel. I understand that you have CCTV,"

"It's those damn kids," the man muttered irritably, calling to the dog and instructing him to be quiet. "They are always hanging around, causing trouble. My house was broken into twice in the last year, you know?" he added, muttering angrily under his breath as he gestured for the pair to follow him into the house.

The house smelled old and musty as though the windows hadn't be opened for years and stepping into the cluttered hall, Veronica felt instantly nauseated. The night's sleep hadn't succeeded in soothing Veronica's raging headache and her stomach had outrightly rejected the tentative breakfast of coffee and an apple she had attempted to consume.

"You okay, Veronica?" she heard Burke ask and looking up Veronica her partner gazing at her concern.

"Fine," she answered dismissively, following Davis into his equally chaotic kitchen, the sink piled high with what must have been an entire week of dishes.

"I'd offer you coffee but as you can see the place is kind of a mess," the man began apologetically and Veronica sighed inwardly in relief.

"The seventh of November, you say?" Davis asked distractedly, poking through a cupboard piled high with all kinds of assorted junk, before finally producing a video tape triumphantly.

"I hope you find him," Greenberg finished with a shrug, passing the tape to Burke before ushering them out of the house.

"Veronica, is that you?"

Glancing around, Veronica was happily surprised to see Mac and Brian walk hand-in-hand across the street, a steaming coffee clutched in both of their hands. Mac was dressed in a deep plum and looked amazing, the color succeeding in bringing out the blue of her eyes. A gold bracelet glinted on her wrist and her dark hair was arranged in a glamorous chignon. Brian, of course was as attentive as ever, his eyes straying over to glance adoringly at his wife-to-be as she chatted happily with Veronica.

"What are you guys doing here?" Veronica demanded happily, Burke having wandered into a local deli in search of some much needed coffee.

"There's a bakery out here that does the most amazing wedding cakes," Mac replied with a wide smile before taking a tentative sip from her Starbucks. "I had to literally drag Brian out here as I really want to get the wedding cake sorted before I head to New York this evening for a conference,"

"I hardly think drag is the appropriate word, Honey," Brian retorted teasingly, pulling his wife into a one armed hug.

"Well maybe, gently encourage, is a better phrase then," Mac amended indulgently, flashing her fiancee a brilliant smile before turning her attention back to Veronica.

"I was reading about that prostitute that was murdered," Brian cut in then, casting an uneasy glance at the motel that was looming in the background. "Brutal stuff. You'd wonder are we a civilized society at all, when you hear about things like that."

"Too true," Veronica agreed, with a solemn shake of her head. Across the street she could see Burke trying to angle the door of the deli open with his elbow, his hands overburdened with containers of coffee and a brown paper bag which Veronica suspected to contain her partner's beloved poppy seed bagels.

Teased by the knowledge that the tape was secured in the inside pocket of Burke's coat, Veronica was suddenly desperate to see if the murderer had indeed been captured on his late night stroll with Helen Bloomberg.

"Guys, we have to get back to the office. Duty calls and all that," Veronica informed the couple with an apologetic smile, her entire body tensed with excitement at the prospect of viewing the footage of Helen's last moments alive.

"I'll call you when I get back from New York," Mac promised her friend, as she drained the end of her coffee, before pulling Brian in the direction of his car.

* * *

Veronica had six missed calls and six matching messages on her cell phone when she pulled it hastily out of her bag on the way to the FBI headquarters. All from Logan. All in the past two hours. These calls were in addition to the four earlier calls Logan had put in the night before and the four voice mails, each one getting more progressively desperate than the last.

Veronica couldn't being herself to call Logan right now; that task to be relegated to a time when Veronica had a glass of wine in her hand and a headache that wasn't threatening to explode behind her eyes.

Goose pimple rose on Veronica's skin as Burke slid the tape into the video recorder and the footage crackled onto the screen. The date and time on the right-hand top of the screen, revealed the footage to be shot mere hours before Helen Bloomberg met her demise. It was an eerie thought and a shiver ran through Veronica's spine as she regarded the television screen warily. The quality of the footage was poor though, the CCTV equipment used by Davis at least ten years old.

"That street is almost deserted at night," Burke commented idly, his arms crossed in front of his chest and his expression arranged in one of absolute concentration. "Explains why the murderer could flaunt Helen Bloomberg on his arm so openly,"

"He wasn't afraid of being seen because the chances of running into a potential witness were very low, or so he thought," Veronica continued, her blue eyes never leaving the screen.

The darkness was unnerving and even from her safe perch in the FBI headquarters, Veronica couldn't help but feel a distinct sense of unease as the same unlit street, remained stationary on the screen, an occasional cat stalking through the darkness seemingly the only sign of life.

"My God, there she is," Burke barely exhaled, his eyes frozen on the screen.

Her blonde hair piled up on her head in a messy bun, Helen Bloomberg was walking slowly along the sidewalk with a dark-haired guy by her side. Nothing about Helen indicated that she was in any danger, her gait almost lazy and her body language simply implying that she was sharing a comfortable conversation with her male companion.

The man walking alongside Helen, with his arm placed lightly on her waist looked innocent enough but her few years of working as an FBI agent, had taught Veronica that evil could be disguised in all sorts of unassuming faces. The footage wasn't exactly clear and the fact that the couple were walking on the opposite side of the street to Greenberg's house wasn't helping matters. But Helen's blonde hair was instantly identifiable as was the short leather skirt, which had been found a few hours later, on Bloomberg's horrifically mutilated remains. Although it was difficult to get an accurate image of the man, Veronica could immediately ascertain that he was at least six foot, having a couple of inches on Helen Bloomberg and his neatly cut hair was a dark brown. He was wearing a suit, probably expensive, she concluded, noting the perfect fit of the jacket and the leather shoes he wore.

After a couple of seconds, the pair had walked out of the view point of the camera and into the unknown, the short piece of footage poignant as it represented some of the last moments of Helen Bloomberg's life before she met her brutal, savage death.

"We need to get this footage cleaned up," Burke stated in a matter-of-fact tone as he ejected the tape from the video recorder. "I'll send it up to Kevin right away and let him work on it. Hopefully, he'll find something that will help us catch the bastard before he gets the chance to murder anyone else."


	9. Chapter 9

**A belated happy holidays to everyone:)**

**Here is the next installment of Natural Born Killer. I hope everyone enjoys:)**

It was dark when Veronica finally pushed her way into the unwelcome cold of her apartment, her head still pounding unmercifully and her stomach turning as she lay down on the comforting warmth of the sofa. The adrenaline from seeing Helen Bloomberg and the man they presumed to be her killer starting to slowly seep out of Veronica's body, it was becoming impossible to ignore how absolutely dreadful she was feeling. A blinding pain seared from behind her eyes and Veronica was finding it almost impossible to focus on the bland comedy show that was playing on the television. Veronica felt cold all over and though she had wrapped herself in a cocoon of blankets, chills were still extending throughout her body.

Her teeth chattering, Veronica finally brought herself to return Logan's call, if only to stop what would likely be a tirade of calls from her boyfriend so she might finally get some sleep.

"Veronica, I was going out of my mind," Logan answered immediately, causing Veronica to take a deep, unsteady breath. "Why wouldn't you answer my calls?"

"Sorry, Logan but I had an absolutely insane day," Veronica tried to explain, closing her eyes to try and control the sudden nausea caused by sitting up so quickly. "We had a huge break in the case and I had to deal with it,"

"You don't sound too good, V." Logan cut in, the angry tone in his voice turning to concern.

"I feel like shit," Veronica agreed, her fingers shaking slightly and her grasp on the cell phone weak. "I've had this monster headache since yesterday and I can't seem to shake it off."

"I'm coming over, Veronica." Logan insisted, causing Veronica to immediately protest with as much force as she could muster.

"There's no point, Logan," she assured him firmly, pressing a hand to her forehead, the skin seemingly burning beneath her fingertips. "I'm going to bed and am going to hopefully pass out until morning. Seriously, Logan, I won't be any sort of company tonight. I would much rather you put your efforts into tomorrow night and plan some sort of surprise date for the two of us."

"That's a cop out, Veronica," Logan berated her teasingly but Veronica could hear a softening in his tone. "But if you're sure then, I will go meet up with Dick and Casey tonight and we can hook up tomorrow."

"Positive." Veronica declared forcibly, a smile on her face as she relished the prospect of spending the following evening with Logan.

Sleep followed after that, her dreams troubled and nightmarish, Veronica haunted by the body of Helen Bloomberg lying pale and still, the motel room splattered wildly with her blood.

A shrill ringing startled Veronica and pulling herself from her frenzied dreams, Veronica reached hastily for her cell phone.

"What?" she answered the phone unhappily, her entire body screaming in protest at the interruption to her much needed sleep.

A quick glance at her bedside clock revealed it was barely ten o' clock and Veronica inwardly cursed the caller, realizing she had barely managed to grab an hours sleep before yet again, her plans for an entire night of uninterrupted sleep had been thwarted.

"Veronica, it's Brian." the voice on the other end spoke apologetically. "Mac gave me your number. I hope this is okay but I've planned this amazing surprise honeymoon and now I'm starting to panic that she'll absolutely hate it. I really need your help."

Despite the fact that Mac's fiance had scuppered any hopes Veronica had of falling back to sleep, she couldn't help but feel touched by the thoughtfulness of the request.

"I'm here now." Veronica informed him with forced cheerfulness, kicking off the covers from her bed and starting to rummage for her clothes. _It wasn't like she was going to be able to get back to sleep._ "You can call over now if you want to. Though I should warn you that right now, my idea of a perfect honeymoon would just focus around a bed. I swear, I haven't had a decent night's sleep in weeks."

"Would the morning be okay? Maybe around seven?" Brian asked hesitantly and Veronica immediately agreed. "It's just, I have to go into work. There's been a pile up on the highway and the emergency room is swamped."

Turning on her bedside lamp, Veronica's eyes closed immediately in protest, the light though dim searing painfully into her brain.

_God, her head hurt._

Placing one foot hesitantly on the floor, Veronica stood shakily up, knowing immediately she was going to be sick.

Racing to the bathroom, she made it to the toilet just in time, the contents of her stomach emptying into the water.

* * *

It was morning when Veronica next woke up, the sunshine slicing through a gap in the curtains and she was vaguely aware of her cellphone ringing somewhere in the distance.

"Go away, Burke." she mumbled irritably, turning over on the bed, her head throbbing violently at the sudden movement.

But Burke didn't go away and Veronica was forced to find her cellphone if only to stop the incessant ringing.

"Veronica, it's Brian. I'm waiting outside. Remember we arranged to meet this morning?" he prompted her, sensing Veronica's state of disorientation.

"Sure." Veronica agreed, making a face when she caught sight of her disheveled appearance in the mirror. Her pale blonde hair stuck out in all sorts of awkward angles, from the untidy bun that was matted at the back of her head and her skin still bore the remnants of yesterdays make-up. Brushing a comb hastily through her tangled lengths of hair and smoothing it back into a neat ponytail, Veronica rummaged through her closet for something clean to wear. Not an easy task, when at least half of her clothes had been in the launderette for over a week and with work going the way it was, it could well be another week before she'd even have a chance to collect them.

Selecting a crisp, white shirt that was miraculously hanging in the wardrobe and a pair of soft, faded jeans, Veronica pulled on her clothes before traipsing wearily into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

The sight that met her in the cracked mirror that was hanging over the sink was grim. Veronica's normally creamy skin now had a grey hue to it and the dark shadows smudged under her blue eyes completed her look of utter exhaustion.

Her head ached and though Veronica's stomach had settled some, the prospect of eating food was most unappealing.

"Brian, I'm so sorry for keeping you waiting." Veronica apologized, opening the door of her apartment to allow him through. "Would you like me to fix you some coffee?"

Politely declining her offer, Brian took a seat beside her on the sofa, a crumpled bag of bagels clutched in his hand.

"I really appreciate this." Brian smiled gratefully, placing the bagels on the table and gesturing at Veronica to take one. "There's cream cheese if you want some." he informed her with a winning smile before pulling a carefully folded piece of paper from his pocket.

He looked a little out of sorts, Veronica thought as she regarded the man curiously. Brian's normally immaculate appearance was less than impressive today; his shirt crumpled and stained and his face bearing a faint shadow of stubble.

_Mac goes away for one night and look what happens_, Veronica smiled inwardly, taking an unenthusiastic bite from a poppy seed bagel.

The glossy sheet of paper was obviously ripped from a travel brochure and staring at the white sands and adoring couples staring at one another over flickering candlelight, Veronica couldn't help but sigh wistfully at the perfection, The Silver Sands resort promised.

"Mac's going to love this." Veronica assured Brian with a wide smile. "Seriously. The place looks gorgeous. You are both going to have the most amazing time."

"You think?" Brian asked again uncertainly and Veronica nodded firmly in answer.

"If I ever get married and more importantly, actually manage to take off enough time to go on a honeymoon, I would want to go somewhere exactly like this." Veronica sighed dreamily, momentarily imagining herself and Logan making love to the sound of the waves lapping slowly outside the open window before immediately dismissing the thought as entirely impossible. Veronica was hardly the marrying type. Veils, tiaras, screaming children and a house with a white picket fence might be what some girls dreamed of but not Veronica.

"I'll be sure to give the brochure to Logan the next time I see him then," Brian teased her lightly and Veronica had to laugh.

"Do and you die." she warned him before the sound of her cellphone had her rummaging impatiently in her bag.

"I have to take this. It's work." Veronica informed Brian with an apologetic smile seeing Burke's name highlighted on the screen. "Help yourself to some juice, if you like."

"Sorry for calling you so early, Mars but there's something you have to see," Burke apologized, the excitement evident in his voice. "I'm sending you some images now from the CCTV. Kevin has managed to do wonders with the footage and we have a better shot of our guy. Have a look at them and see what you think."

"Will do, Burke," Veronica agreed shortly, pulling herself up from the sofa with some difficulty and reaching for her laptop. "Listen, my battery is about to go dead. I will call you back in a few minutes when I have a chance to look at them."

Rubbing her eyes wearily, Veronica logged into her work email and downloaded the series of images Burke had sent her. Seeing the first image flash onto the screen, Veronica went cold with shock.

There could be no doubt in her mind that she was looking at a photo of Mac's fiance, Brian Matthews.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hi guys:) I am so sorry about the delay in writing and posting this chapter! Real life has been insane over the past few weeks and I just haven't had any free time. **

**Thanks so much for the response to the last chapter:) I'm glad people are enjoying the story!**

**Anyways, here's chapter 10. Enjoy:)**

_What the hell?_ Veronica cursed inwardly. _Impossible._

She looked again.

No. The short brown hair, the charming smile. It was definitely him.

Beside him Helen Bloomberg looked happy and relaxed and certainly hadn't the appearance of a woman, who only hours later faced a brutal and violent death.

She couldn't take her eyes from the computer screen, her attention fixed to the shocking images in front of her.

"Veronica, would it be possible to get a glass of water?"

Hearing his voice, Veronica whirled around, nausea pooling in her stomach at the sight of Mac's fiancé behind her.

"Sure," Veronica replied, forcing a smile as she immediately slammed her laptop shut.

_How long had he been there? _Veronica hoped only seconds.

If Brian had seen the photographs, he made no mention of it instead following her into the kitchen and watching silently as she removed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water.

"Thanks, Veronica." he muttered, accepting the glass and draining it almost immediately.

"Have you heard from Mac?" Veronica inquired with a smile, at a loss of anything else to say. Brian's demeanor seemed to have changed from the charming, well spoken man Veronica had grown to know over the previous weeks.

"She should be home later this evening." Brian replied curtly, sliding the glass onto the draining board, a cold expression creeping into in his blue eyes. "I'll be sure to tell her to give you a call."

He had seen the photograph, Veronica suddenly knew and she felt sick to her stomach.

_God. This was not good._

Though petite, Veronica was surprisingly strong, hours of working out in the gym having honed every muscle in her body. Brian, though had over sixty pounds on her and Veronica knew in her current weakened state, that she hadn't a hope in hell if he overpowered her.

_Her gun, _Veronica quickly realized, making her way towards her bedroom, running her fingers through her tangled lengths of hair. "I'm sorry, Brian but I need to get ready for work. Call me though, if you have any other questions." she assured him with what she hoped was a credible smile.

Pushing her way into her bedroom, Veronica closed the door forcibly behind her and leaned against it for a minute, her entire body convulsed with shakes.

_God. He was still out there._ The telling click of the front door closing hadn't sounded yet and Veronica could hear a vague clatter from the kitchen as though he was rummaging through the cupboards for something.

Veronica couldn't worry about that now. Her blue eyes searching the darkened room, the curtains still closed from her impromptu wake-up call, Veronica almost died in the spot when she noticed the conspicuously empty space on the bedside locker.

Her gun was gone.

* * *

The welcoming ring of a bell tinkled overhead as Logan pushed his way through the door of Sunny's Diner and took a seat in one of the red vinyl booths. Though he had refrained from drinking alcohol, the late night spent with Dick and Casey playing poker left Logan hungry for something more substantial than his usual morning coffee.

"What can I get you, Sir?" the middle-aged waitress asked him warmly, paper and pen poised in her hand as she waited for Logan to respond.

The pancakes in Sunny's were apparently legendary according to the plastic covered menu and who was Logan to argue with a statement like that. The waitress hastily scribbling his order of pancakes and coffee into her notebook, she slipped the pen into her apron before heading back towards the kitchen.

The diner was mercifully quiet, the place devoid of the usual hustle and bustle that plagued the place on weekend mornings when he and Veronica used to scramble for a seat. Inhaling the comforting scent of the freshly brewed coffee and bacon, Logan relaxed back into the booth and gazed out the window, his thoughts returning to Veronica and the messed-up relationship they shared, that somehow seemed to be making sense. He'd call into her on his way to work, he decided, suddenly needing to see Veronica with a desperation that would be embarrassing if anybody other than himself knew.

"Enjoy." the waitress beamed, sliding a steaming plate of pancakes on the table in front of him and topping up his coffee.

Thanking the waitress, Logan's stomach growled in anticipation of the plate of food in front of him. Picking up his fork and knife, he was just about to cut into the stack of pancakes when his cell phone buzzed from his pocket.

Reaching for the phone, Logan's face twisted in confusion seeing Keith Mars' name highlighted on the screen. Keith Mars never was Logan's biggest fan.

"Is Veronica there?" Keith demanded the second Logan answered the phone and Logan could hear the worry in his voice.

"No," Logan replied warily, pushing away his plate of pancakes, his appetite suddenly disappeared. "She wasn't feeling very well yesterday and decided to have an early night. Is there something wrong?"

"I'm not sure," Keith replied with a weary sigh. "I've tried calling her a few times this morning and her phone is turned off. It's just not like Veronica. I think, I'm going to call over to her apartment and make sure everything is okay."

"There's no need," Logan insisted, the obvious worry in Keith Mars' voice starting to make it's impact on Logan's own feelings. "I was going to call over to Veronica before work to see how she is. I'll ring you when I get there. I'm sure everything is fine."

"Once you promise to call the second you get there," Keith replied uncertainly. "I'll have my cell with me."

* * *

"Where the hell is Mars, this morning?" Burke muttered to nobody in particular, shifting through the towering pile of paperwork that seemed to be only growing on his desk.

The morning wasn't going well. Marilyn was in a foul mood, the newspapers filled with headlines that screamed the utter incompetency of the LAPD and the FBI. The coffee was cold and it was looking less likely by the second that Mars would be joining him for their ten thirty appointment with James Carr, an FBI technical analyst who had been flown in especially to advise on the Bloomberg case.

The images from the CCTV camera weren't the best of quality but they were decent enough. There was every possibility that the man walking down the road so casually with Helen Bloomberg in the hours before her death could be completely innocent. It was far more likely though that he was their killer and this could be the lead the FBI needed to finally take the bastard down.

"Is Mars not in yet? I have some paperwork from the Bloomberg crime scene that needs to be tied up."

Hearing the frustrated voice, Burke looked up to see Marilyn Hauser gazing down at him and waiting expectantly for an answer.

"I've tried calling but she's not picking up," Burke replied, forcing a patient note into his voice. In spite of the crappy mood he was in, Burke knew better than to cross his boss.

"It's not like her to be late," Marilyn sighed unhappily, pushing her glasses a little higher up her nose. "I hope nothing is wrong."

_Typical,_ Burke sighed inwardly. _Mars is an hour late and the boss is practically making a Get Well Soon card for her. I turn up on time and I don't even merit a cup of half drinkable coffee._

"Keep trying to get in contact with Mars," Hauser demanded curtly, smoothing a hand over her wool skirt. "And if she isn't in by the time you finish up your meeting with Agent Carr, I want you to call over to her place and check everything is okay. Understood?"

"Understood." Burke agreed, wondering what the hell Mars had done to turn the ice-queen boss into her number one fan.

* * *

Tying up hair into a loose ponytail, Veronica was vaguely aware that her hands were shaking. Though she couldn't hear him, she was certain Brian was still outside, armed with her gun and God knows what else he found in the kitchen.

If the body of Helen Bloomberg was anything to go by, Brian was pretty adept with a knife and it would only take one slice to the right place to leave her bleeding to death on the kitchen floor.

_What the hell was she going to do?" _Veronica wondered wildly, giving a hopeful glance at the window before realizing that at eight stories up, she would be better off taking her chances with Brian.

It was a completely hopeless situation. Brian had her gun. The battery in her cell phone was completely dead. She might as well just jump out the window now and save Brian the trouble.

_Maybe if she blocked the door, _Veronica suddenly considered, eyeing the heavy mahogany dresser that was pushed against the wall. It might buy her time. Burke would want to discuss the images from the CCTV camera he sent her last night and wouldn't be impressed by her nonappearance at the office. Neither would Marilyn, Veronica knew. There was some paperwork that was in urgent demand and Marilyn wasn't in the most patient of moods at the moment.

Spurred into action, Veronica ran over to the dresser and started to push the awkward piece of dresser across the floor. The carpeted floor mercifully quietened her efforts but just as Veronica pushed the dresser firmly against the door, a rush of footsteps across the floor outside reminded Veronica that she was not alone.

"What are you doing, Veronica?" Brian demanded softly but there was a dangerous note in his voice. "Why don't you just come out and we can talk."

"Like the way you talked to Helen Bloomberg?" Veronica spat back, clearing the books and jars of make-up from her bedside locker with a quick swipe of her hand. Struggling to get to grips with the sizable weight of the dusty piece of furniture, Veronica heaved it on top of the chest of drawers for good measure. Brian was strong and Veronica was certain he would eventually manage to force his way through the door. The furniture stacked in front of the door would buy her time though, give her a chance to formulate some semblance of a plan.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Brian replied, though there was a nervous edge to his voice.

_He was in denial,_ Veronica realized. Brian Matthews. Golden boy.

From the way Mac spoke about her fiancee, it was obvious he had always excelled at everything he had tried to do. He had been valedictorian in high school and had graduated top of his class in Harvard Medicine. His mother absolutely adored him but Veronica doubted that the gruesome murders Brian was responsible for weren't his first brush with the law. Brutal murderers don't just transpire overnight. There were probably some earlier incidents, that his wealthy parents erased with their considerable power and money. Quite probably, Brian had never murdered anybody before but it was quite possible he had tortured animals.

"Helen Bloomberg. The prostitute who was killed the other night." Veronica informed Brian, her voice carefully controlled to conceal the almost overwhelming fear that was threatening to consume her. "Brian, the police know it was you. They have you on CCTV footage.

There was quietness for a moment before Brian spoke and there was a strange sort of mocking tone in his voice.

"Correction, Veronica, _you_ know it was me," he sneered. "I saw those images remember and they are pretty shit, it has to be said. No jury in the country would convict me, based on those images alone and as far I know, the police don't have any other evidence."

_He was right,_ Veronica knew. _Brian had been careful, hadn't left much for the police to work with. But he didn't know that._

"Are you certain about that, Brian?" Veronica murmured, her head still racing will possible strategies to get out of this mess alive.

"Positive." he snarled back but some of the old cockiness was gone.

"Once you're sure," Veronica chanted back in an infuriatingly sunny tone that she was certain would drive Brian mad and hopefully begin to doubt himself.

"The only thing that links me to the murders at present, Veronica, is you." Brian informed her in a chilling tone. "And that, I'm sure you agree will be a pretty easy thing to deal with."

A furious thump followed his words as Brian threw himself against the door and Veronica knew that time was running short.

* * *

The sun was searing down from the bright blue sky as Logan swung into the car lot of Veronica's apartment building. It was a beautiful morning, the kind that might inspire one to consider blowing off work and head to the beach for an early swim.

Not that Veronica ever would, Logan considered ruefully, imagining the look of horror on his girlfriend's face if he even broached the idea. She was truly committed to the role as FBI agent and even vacations were taken with a little reservation, Veronica hating to be missing out on anything work related.

Spying her car parked at the opposite end of the car lot, Logan sighed in relief. As suspected, Veronica was probably just sleeping off the rare headache she had been complaining of the previous day. He might even try and get her to give her doctor a call, Logan decided then, knowing well of Veronica's stubbornness and her absolute inability to accept that she might need a few days off work and an antibiotic.

Reaching the door of her apartment, Logan tentatively knocked, feeling bad for waking her. Veronica rarely got enough sleep, in his estimations at least.

When she didn't answer, he knocked a little louder, fully expecting to hear the patter of footsteps over the floor before Veronica would throw the door open to him, rubbing her eyes wearily and her hair arranged in all sorts of strange angles.

But still there was no response.

"Veronica." Logan called, his voice gentle at first but his calls becoming more insistent as Veronica failed to answer.

Reaching for his cell, he tried her number again and almost flung his phone at the wall in disgust when the monotonous beep informed him that the battery in her cell was dead.

There was something wrong, Logan instantly knew, about to punch in 911 into his cell when he thought he heard a muffled sound emanating from inside.

"Veronica." he called insistently, banging furiously against the door. "Is everything okay? Open the door or I'm coming in."

Calling 911, Logan quickly relayed Veronica's address and his concerns to the female dispatcher before making a running jump at the door. Veronica was in trouble, he was certain of it.


	11. Chapter 11

**A huge thanks to everyone who read the last chapter of Natural Born Killer and especially to those who reviewed:) It is much appreciated!**

**Life has calmed down a little (for now!) so I've managed to get the chapter out much quicker than anticipated.**

**Enjoy:)**

* * *

"I'm going to kill you." Brian's voice came menacingly through the door as he started to bang something heavy against the thick wood. "You will be wishing you were dead before I'm through with you, Mars." he hissed and Veronica didn't doubt the intent behind his words.

He lunged at the door again but the heavy furniture kept the door intact. _For now,_ Veronica reminded herself unhappily, hearing the wood starting to splinter as Brian yet again threw the full force of his body weight against the door.

"Let me in, Veronica and I promise you will be rewarded by a short and sweet death." he murmured temptingly, before kicking viscously at the door, "A single gun shot to the head. You won't even feel it." Brian promised, as though what he was proposing was perfectly reasonable.

"Like hell, I will." Veronica shouted in response, eyeing a heavy lamp standing by the bed. The lamp was hideously ugly, the base of it fashioned out of a pale green glass and painted with gaudy, brightly colored flowers.

Unplugging the lamp from the wall, Veronica picked it up before smashing it against the wall. The resulting smash had Brian kicking even more furiously at the door, his voice spewing venom and promising Veronica a most unpleasant death if she didn't stop whatever the hell she was doing.

"I am going to win, you know, Veronica." Brian continued but Veronica ignored him, the long jagged piece of glass now gripped firmly in her hand as viable a weapon as the gun, she was certain was in Brian Matthew's possession. "I'm going to get into that room and when I do, you'll be sorry you ever chose a career in the FBI. The things I'm going to do to you. It will take them weeks, just to identify your body."

"Just you try, asshole," Veronica spat back through clenched teeth, the sharp sliver of glass in her hand giving her renewed confidence that just maybe she could get out of this in one piece.

Brian started to make some sort of heated response when he suddenly stopped, his threats hanging in midair.

"What the hell?" he demanded and it was then Veronica heard it, the muffled thumps that were coming from outside the apartment itself.

Her ear pressed carefully against the door, Veronica tried her best to establish exactly what the sound was. _The police? _she wondered idly, before realizing in dismay that they would have already forced their way into her apartment if they had even an inkling of suspicion that something was wrong. Burke would still be in the meeting with Agent Carr. Veronica's thoughts ventured briefly to her father before she remembered the worried tone that had been in Logan's voice the night before when she had been speaking to him on the phone.

It was Logan, she suddenly knew and Veronica's stomach clenched in horror as she tried not to imagine what Brian would do to her boyfriend if he got his hands on him.

_Get the hell out of here,_ Logan, she wanted to scream but her voice failed her.

* * *

The scarred painted door of Veronica's apartment was infuriatingly thick and no matter how hard Logan lunged and kicked at the wood, the door wouldn't budge.

Cursing under his breath, Logan took another running jump at the door, his efforts rewarded by a painful throb in his ankle which ended up smashing off the heavy doorframe in the process.

Ignoring the pain, Logan forced himself to take a breath for a minute before throwing his fists against the door until they were bruised and bloody.

_This wasn't good._ There was someone inside, Logan knew. Someone who meant Veronica harm.

"I'm going to kick this door down if I have to." Logan threatened, his face ablaze with anger as he continued hammering the door. "And if you have done so much as touch one hair on my girlfriend's head, I'm going to kill you. Is that understood?" he roared, aiming one particularly viscous kick at the door for good measure.

_Where the hell are the police?_ Logan wondered desperately, the minutes since he had called the police seeming endlessly long.

Raking his hands in frustration through his hair, Logan suddenly remembered the renovations that were taken place in an apartment two floors down. Veronica had complained about the noise more than once, the construction workers seeing nothing wrong with starting to drill at five in the morning, when most people were snuggled up in bed for at least another two hours of sleep.

Racing down the flight of concrete stairs, Logan balled his fists up in frustration when he saw that the door to apartment 34A was shut, the construction workers apparently on a rare day off.

"What the hell am I going to do now?" he cursed, not caring who heard him, when he saw a few rusty lengths of old copper piping propped in the corner against the crude concrete wall.

Grabbing one of them, he maneuvered it carefully up the narrow flight of stairs, his impatience growing by the second.

Logan could only hope he was not too late.

* * *

Cornered in her tiny bedroom, Veronica was starting to feel more panicked by the second. Brian's violent lunges at the door seemed to be finally succeeding at breaking through her improvised fortress. The hinges were creaking dangerously and every kick filled Veronica with fear that this time Brian would finally come crashing through, her gun poised evilly in his hand.

"You're just drawing out the inevitable, Veronica." Brian tutted knowingly, aiming a particularly brutal kick at the door.

Seeing the door starting to come away from the hinges, Veronica felt sick. Brian was seconds away.

Her grip tightening on the jagged piece of glass, Veronica slipped inside the wardrobe, determined not to go down without a fight. Her plan would at least give her the element of surprise and Veronica needed all the help she could get.

Hearing a tremendous cracking of wood and the muffled sound of Brian cursing under his breath, Veronica froze in the darkness, waiting for her chance.

"Come out, Veronica, where ever you are." Brian murmured delightedly and Veronica could hear the soft patter of footsteps as he made his way around the room searching for her.

"I'm going to find you." he prattled on and through the narrow crack in the door, Veronica could see him crouched on the floor peering under her bed.

_This was her chance. She wasn't going to get another one._

Silently pushing the door of the wardrobe carefully open, Veronica held her breath anxiously, hoping the creaking of the hinges wouldn't betray her. Jumping out the wardrobe, Veronica plunged the piece of glass into Brian's neck, spluttering in horror as blood spewed into the air, splattering a violent spray of red onto the ceiling and walls.

Brian didn't even get a chance to react, his eyes bulging in shock, he fell back against the heavy bed frame, his head making a horrific cracking sound as it smacked against the wood.

* * *

Reaching Veronica's apartment, Logan aimed his makeshift battering ram at the door, stepping back before breaking into a run. The impact made a furious bang but the door remained infuriatingly steadfast.

Not even drawing a breath, Logan returned immediately to his starting position and charged at the door.

The hinge creaked in protest and seeing his efforts were paying off, Logan ran at the door with renewed determination, which finally gave way under the enormous pressure.

"Veronica, where the hell are you?" Logan called out, not considering his own safety for a second as he raced into the apartment.

The apartment was a mess, the few pieces of furniture Veronica possessed turned over and the contents of the cutlery drawer scattered all over the kitchen floor. Picking his way over the pieces of broken glass, Logan ventured further along the narrow hallway.

"Veronica," he called out uncertainly, his pace quickening as his desperation increased.

The bedroom door sagging on it's hinges filled Logan with renewed terror as he clamored over the pieces of furniture that blocked the way into the darkened room.

The room was a scene of chaos, red splattered wildly all over the walls and the carpet squelched underneath his feet.

"Veronica, where are you?" he demanded, his fears giving way to overwhelming relief seeing Veronica crouched over a blood drenched body.

"Thank God, you're okay," he murmured, taking Veronica into his arms and holding her close.

The pair were still clinging together, when the police swarmed into the apartment, requesting back-up over the crackle of their radios.

It was finally over.

* * *

Blood matted in her hair and streaked across her skin, Veronica didn't protest when Logan suggested she go back to his apartment for a shower and some much needed sleep. She was exhausted, the strain of the previous hours and the tirade from questioning from both the FBI and the LAPD starting to take their toll.

"You guys need me for anything else?" Veronica asked Burke as she smothered a yawn in the back of her hand. "It's just, I really need to catch up on some sleep and grab a shower." she sighed, gesturing in disgust at the crimson red marks that were daubed across the front of her white shirt.

"We'll probably need to ask you some more questions, Veronica," Burke informed her with an apologetic expression on his face. "But that can wait until you've at least had a night's sleep. I still can't believe you knew this guy."

"I thought I did," Veronica replied, feeling sick at the thought of having to relay this shocking information to Mac. Bad enough that her fiancee was dead but the knowledge that Brian Matthews had butchered so many people was simply unthinkable. Brian's family hadn't been made privy to the information of their son's death yet and Veronica had already requested that she be allowed inform Mac of Brian's death. At least the news wouldn't come from some nameless, faceless stranger. _Not that that would make the situation any easier to bear._

"Look go home and try to get some sleep." Burke informed her with an uncharacteristic kindly expression on his face as he started to shepherd her to the door. "I'll sort out things here and deal with Marilyn. You look like you could do with a few days off anyway, Mars."

A pain starting to throb again behind her eyes, Veronica could only agree. She couldn't remember the last time she felt so completely exhausted. _Maybe a trip to the doctor might be in order._

"Talk to you tomorrow," Veronica informed Burke with a weak nod, before she tossed a few items of clothing and toiletries into a bag and walked over wearily to where Logan was waiting for her.

"Ready to go?" Logan asked her softly and Veronica smiled in response. Allowing him to wrap an arm warmly around her shoulder, she walked gratefully out the door of the apartment, swearing to never return again.

* * *

Stepping under the comforting warmth of the shower, Veronica sighed in pleasure as the hot water seeped into her skin. Squeezing some shampoo into her hand, Veronica worked into her blonde hair, shuddering in horror as a steady stream of red ran down the drain.

_His blood_, she realized, scrubbing with renewed vigor until her skin was red raw and the water was running clear again.

Shutting off the water, Veronica wrapped herself in a luxuriously fluffy bath sheet before quickly toweling her hair dry.

Peeking his head around the door, Logan fixed Veronica with a searching gaze as he watched her slather moisturizer into her shower dampened skin. "How are you holding up?" he murmured, his concern evident on his face as he passed her a pair of her favorite soft cotton pajamas that she had hastily thrown into her bag.

"Okay, I guess." Veronica replied thoughtfully, not missing the way Logan's eyes strayed towards her bare chest as she pulled the string top of the pajamas over her head. "I'm absolutely dreading telling Mac the news, though. I haven't the faintest idea what I'm going to say to her."

Pulling Veronica into his arms, Logan held her close. "You'll get through it," he reassured her, smoothing a hand gently over her damp lengths of hair. "If anyone can do this, you can."

"I suppose." Veronica sighed uncertainly, wandering into Logan's bedroom and crawling gratefully beneath the crisp white linen.

Reveling in the warmth of Logan's arms wrapped securely around her, it was a long time before Veronica fell into a deep, uneasy sleep.

**A/N: There is just one more chapter of Natural Born Killer left to post, which will hopefully tie up the loose ends of this fic. **** I'm also planning on writing a sequel to Natural Born Killer which will take up almost immediately where this story ends. I hope to explore Logan and Veronica's developing relationship a little further. **

******Again thanks to everyone for all their kind words! **


	12. Chapter 12

**Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read and review Natural Born Killer. I really enjoyed writing this story and am looking forward to starting the sequel which I hope to be posting soon:)**

**Here's the final chapter:) I hope everyone enjoys:)**

* * *

Dread rose in Veronica's stomach as she pulled her car to a stop outside the familiar white stucco building that Mac lived in. The day was glorious, the sun searing down from a brilliant blue sky and it was all so wrong. It was the kind of day that should be spent on the beach, sipping cool beer and enjoying the feel of the warm sun on their skin but instead, Veronica was going to have to intrude on Mac's perfect life, delivering the news that would bring it all crashing down.

Mac was a good person; she didn't deserve this, Veronica considered ruefully as she reluctantly turned off the engine of her car. How Veronica was actually going to break the news was still something she hadn't fully decided on. FBI protocol would have Agent Mars brief the unfortunate family members immediately, relaying the information in as clinical and matter-of-fact a way as possible. Mac was her friend though and that made Veronica's role as FBI agent entirely irrelevant. God, this was impossible, Veronica suddenly realized, her stomach turning not for the first time that day as she banged the door of the car forcibly closed. She should have turned this duty over to Burke but deep down Veronica knew, she was the only one who could deliver this horrendous news to Mac.

"Veronica, what are you doing here?" Mac asked brightly, a smile widening across her face as she opened the door to her friend.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted in from the kitchen as Mac hastily ushered her into the small ground floor apartment. Though normally spotlessly tidy, today the apartment was a mess, wedding magazines and samples of materials littering the coffee table and Mac's collection of luggage still stacked by the door.

"Do you want a coffee? It's just brewed." Mac informed her distractedly, clearing a space for Veronica to sit on before disappearing into the kitchen.

Left alone with her thoughts, Veronica sat down rigidly on the worn leather sofa, her hands clenched together tightly.

"Here you go," Mac smiled, offering Veronica a steaming cup of coffee before taking a seat opposite her. "Now, explain your presence." she demanded, taking a tentative sip from her cup. "It's not like you to just drop in like this."

Sighing, Veronica placed her cup carefully on the table and looked at her friend frankly.

"Mac, I've something to tell you. It's about Brian." she began, the look on Mac's face rapidly changing from confusion to shock as Veronica nervously relayed the horrific story of her fiance's double life to her friend.

* * *

"It was terrible." Veronica sighed, her eyes swollen and red as she threw herself onto the sofa in Logan's apartment, clutching a cushion comfortingly against her chest. "You should have seen the look on her face."

Veronica's voice trailed away then and she stubbornly swiped a hand across her cheek to catch the few tears that fell.

"I've tried calling her since but she won't answer my calls," Veronica continued, not resisting when Logan wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his arms. "And wait till the media get their hands on this story. They'll hound her, make Mac's life a living hell. Not that it isn't already." she sighed, shaking her head sadly.

"She'll talk to you when she's ready," Logan murmured comfortingly, smoothing a hand over her soft blonde hair. "You know you really should stop blaming yourself. What happened to Brian was not your fault."

"I stabbed him to death, Logan. How is that not my fault?" Veronica demanded irritably, though rationally she knew there was sense in her boyfriend's words.

"He would have killed you, Veronica." Logan answered insistently, taking Veronica's face in his hands and tilting up her chin so her blue eyes met his. "The guy was a freaking serial killer, remember?"

Shaking her head in despair, Veronica sighed miserably as a few more tears escaped down her cheeks. "I could have handled the situation better, Logan." she maintained, refusing to be placated. "I'm a trained FBI agent and I didn't even manage to have my cellphone charged, much less keep a hold on my gun. I doubt even Lamb in his worst moments would have been this incompetent."

"Logan, I feel like crap." Veronica declared in a small voice, disentangling herself from Logan's arms and pulling herself up off the sofa. "My head is about to explode. I'm going to go back to bed for a couple of hours and try and get some sleep."

"Do you want some company?" Logan asked gently, his hand still wrapped warmly around hers.

"How could I say no to that?" Veronica replied, the first real smile all day brightening her face.

* * *

Two days later and Veronica sat at the kitchen table, picking unappetizingly at her breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast. She was going insane. Accustomed to long hours and food grabbed on the run, Veronica was finding her new routine of lounging in bed late and watching bad television infuriatingly boring. Marilyn refused to let her back on the job for at least a week and even insisted she undergo a full medical before she step one foot inside the office. Logan had gone to work and now Veronica was stuck in his apartment alone, wondering what the hell she was going to do to stop herself from going absolutely stir crazy.

A run might do it, Veronica considered idly, lazily taking a drink from her cup of coffee before being disturbed by the buzz of the doorbell.

"Mac." Veronica greeted her friend uncertainly, seeing the girl standing outside the door, her skin waxy pale.

Ushering her friend into the apartment, Veronica gazed furtively around before closing the door behind her. A media frenzy had circulated around the death of Brian Matthews and the uncovering of his grisly deeds. Every news station it seemed had taken residence around Mac's apartment building and almost constant coverage of the case was playing on the television.

"How are you doing?" she asked her friend gently, before cursing herself inwardly at the sheer idiocy of the question. The man Mac loved had just been unmasked as a serial killer and was now dead, at the hands of her best friend, no less. How the hell could she be okay?

"You know," Mac shrugged dully but the dark shadows that were smudged under her eyes and the swollen cheeks betrayed her. The girl was a mess.

"I'm sorry for everything, Mac." Veronica sighed, not exactly sure what she was apologizing for. Despite all of Logan's protestations that what happened was not her fault, Veronica couldn't help feeling hideously guilty every time she thought of Brian's lifeless eyes staring dully at the ceiling. Sure Brian had been a serial killer but to Mac, Brian had been everything. Hell, they were supposed to be getting married in a few weeks.

"I don't blame you, Veronica." Mac said simply, raising her blue eyes to meet Veronica's for a moment. "I still can't get my head around who they're saying Brian was supposed to be. Like, I know rationally, the police and the FBI have evidence to connect Brian with the murders but still..."

Mac's voice trailed off for a moment and Veronica could tell she was lost in her thoughts.

"His mother called me today."

At Mac's words, Veronica jerked up her head sharply. "What did she say?" she asked curiously.

Since the showdown at her apartment, Veronica hadn't been privy to developments in the case over the past few days.

"Brian had a troubled past, apparently," Mac relayed to her friend shakily. "His mother told me that when Brian was a kid, he was a really high achiever and had serious problems dealing with any kind of failure. Once he was placed second at a science fair and the next day the kid who had placed first suffered some serious stomach sickness. He was brought to hospital where doctors found he had been poisoned with arsenic. Later, his mother found an empty container of rat poison in the garbage. Another time, his sister's pet hamster was found dead after she had the audacity to win a spelling bee."

"And you never knew any of this?" Veronica asked disbelievingly, finding it very hard to understood how her friend had lived unknowingly with a monster for the past few months.

"He grew out of it, his mother said. As soon as he started high school, Brian turned into your average, easy-going guy. He started playing football and basketball and excelled in all his classes and his parents thought he was after outgrowing whatever 'phase' he was going through. Being accepted into Harvard med cemented the 'new' Brian as his mother referred to him and they really thought he had changed. Turns out they were wrong." she finished darkly, raking a hand shakily through her dark hair. "A few weeks ago, Brian was turned over for promotion at the hospital and the FBI think that's what started off this whole chain of events."

"I still can't believe I was going to marry this guy," Mac murmured disbelievingly, tears shining in her eyes. "You must think I'm really stupid."

"Of course I don't think that, Mac." Veronica retorted, reaching for a tissue and handing it to her friend. "Brian had everybody fooled. Don't you dare feel bad about that. None of this is your fault."

Mac didn't look like she quite believed Veronica but she wiped her eyes all the same and gazed frankly at the other girl.

"I've come here to say goodbye, Veronica." Mac informed her quietly, forcing a small smile onto her face. "I've handed in my notice to work and I'm heading to China to begin that backpackers tour of Asia that I've always been threatening. I just can't stay here. Those damn reporters are making my life a misery and anyway, there's just too many memories."

Staring at her friend in shock, Veronica nevertheless felt happy that Mac was at least trying to make a fresh start.

"Good for you, Mac." Veronica smiled at the other girl before crossing the room to give her a hug. "I'll miss you but for what it's worth I think you're making the right decision. You need to out some space between you and what's after happening if you are to ever begin getting over it."

"You think the Pacific Ocean will be enough?" Mac joked weakly.

"It will be a start at least," Veronica replied, tears beginning to prickle in her eyes.

* * *

Sitting at the kitchen table, Veronica was poring intently over the classifieds section of the LA Times, circling possible apartments for rent in bright red. The options weren't very appealing. For the money Veronica could afford to pay, her choices were pretty limited unless she was willing to live in some crime ridden ghetto on the wrong side of town.

"What are you doing?"

Looking up from the newspaper, Veronica saw Logan staring at her with curious eyes before wandering across the kitchen and pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Looking for a new apartment." Veronica replied, smiling as Logan pulled out a seat and sat down beside her. "Well, at least trying to. You wouldn't believe the rent some of these places command. The way things are looking, I'll be sleeping in a cardboard box and beach and probably paying for the privilege."

"I know somewhere you could stay and the rent is pretty cheap," Logan offered with a teasing smile as he reached for a croissant from the centre of the table.

"Does it have a swimming pool?" Veronica asked, a twinkle in her blue eyes as she smiled at Logan. "Because that's a deal breaker for me."

"It doesn't have a pool but I have it on good account that your roommate would be this really hot guy. Might be worth considering." Logan shrugged as he brought his lips to Veronica's for a kiss.

"No pool, no deal," Veronica sighed, unable to resist breaking out into a smile as Logan pressed his lips against hers again. "Although, if this roommate is as hot as you say he is, I might have to reconsider. Can you get me some photos of this hottie?"

"I can do even better." Logan promised, taking her hand and pulling her towards the bedroom.

* * *

Pulling in front of Dr. Lavelle's office, Veronica brought the car to a stop before sliding the keys out of the ignition. Veronica hated going to the doctor but Marilyn insisted that she undergo a routine medical examination before she would even consider allowing her back to work. Rummaging in the back seat for her bag, Veronica inwardly cursed realizing she had left it back in Logan's apartment. She was horribly distracted, Logan's offer of the two of them moving back in together weighing heavily on her mind.

So far, Veronica hadn't given her boyfriend an answer but then she had stopped her search for the apartment, so maybe, subconsciously she had already resigned herself to a future with Logan Echolls.

"Hello, Veronica," the doctor welcomed her warmly, ushering her into her office and gesturing at her to sit on the examination table. "How have you been feeling?"

"Not great." Veronica admitted, squirming a little as the doctor wrapped the velcro strap tightly around her arm and started to pump up the blood pressure monitor. "But I've been very busy at work and not sleeping well, so I guess it's not a surprise really."

"Your blood pressure is a little on the high side," the doctor commented, ripping the velcro strap off Veronica's arm before noting the result on her file. "Could you elaborate on how you've been feeling lately?"

"I've been feeling exhausted and nauseous," Veronica began, smoothing a hand wearily over her blonde hair. "And I've been having these killer headaches. Nothing a few hours sleep won't cure, right?"

"Maybe," the doctor replied tightly, before gesturing at Veronica to lie down on the examination table. "But I'm going to take some blood and run a few tests, just to be on the safe side."

Extending her arm reluctantly, Veronica suddenly remembered why she hated visiting the doctor so much.

"What was the date of your last period?" Dr. Lavelle asked as the needle pinched Veronica's skin.

"My period?" Veronica asked dully, suddenly realizing that she wasn't all that certain of the answer. Her cycles had never been very regular and with all the stress of the previous weeks, Veronica couldn't remember exactly when she had had her period last.

"Is there a possibility you could be pregnant, Veronica?" the doctor asked curiously as Veronica pulled herself to a seated position on the table. "It might explain some of those symptoms you've been experiencing over the last few weeks."

"There's no way," Veronica replied in a quiet voice but even she could hear the uncertainty in her own voice. "I'm on birth control and they're meant to be like ninety-nine percent foolproof, right?"

"They are, if they are taken correctly," the doctor confirmed with a stern nod. "But if you've been sick, you might have thrown up the pill unknowingly. Look the only way you're going to know for certain is if you take a pregnancy test."

Nodding dully, Veronica took the plastic vial the doctor offered her and slunk into the bathroom.

Five minutes later and the results were confirmed.

"It looks like you are pregnant, Veronica," Dr. Lavelle informed her with a warm smile. "Congratulations."

"Thanks." Veronica replied back numbly, sitting back in utter shock as the doctor reeled off a list of well intentioned advice on the dos and don'ts of pregnancy.


End file.
